The Uninvited
by Danigirl32
Summary: AU JaSam They are Kindreden. Loyal to their Sire and will kill any threat with no remorse. No pity. No mercy. They walk the night. Alone. Always searching for the One.
1. Prologue

_**The Uninvited**_

**Prologue**

"_How long has it been?"_

He looked into his Sire's dark eyes, saw kindness there. Understanding. An ageless wisdom he could only hope to achieve. When he was summoned into this inner sanctum, he had known a reckoning was coming and did not look forward to it. Yet he would endure it. His due.

Taking a moment to center himself, he looked around the chamber. It looked much like the first time he had seen it. Elegant. Serene. There were a few odd touches that proved that life indeed had moved on during his absence, little knickknacks that indicated a feminine touch.

A Ming vase of parrot tulips centered the round meeting table where his kindreden would sit to welcome him home. Candles glowing softly, smelling faintly of violets and vanilla. Bright pillows in rich curry and burnt orange were tossed haphazard on the large masculine couch. Heavy drapes of the same color were drawn back to allow the full moon to shine hauntingly into the room. Little figurines scattered on the mantel and tables, on top of the grand piano, some so delicate that he figured with enough pressure, would shatter in his palm.

Over the fireplace where flames rumbled softly was the portrait of the woman he had almost given his life to save. Sasha. Loving, arrogant Sasha who had fallen in love with his Sire and defied her House to be with him. Sasha who had earned all of their respect and devotion when she stood by the House of Gilchrist and pledged her loyalty to the Enforcers the others of their kind feared.

"Fifty years," he answered, trying to keep the emotions swirling through him from his voice and when the Knowing burned golden in his Sire's gaze, knew he had failed.

Fifty years since his failure.

The memories were still vivid and always would be. The pain rushing through his body, the metallic scent of blood mixed with sweat, _fear_, as he realized that his Sire's mate was in mortal danger and it was his fault. His refusal to believe that Courtney could be involved in the plot against Sasha put his House in danger.

Fifty years since he stepped between Sasha and that katana, feeling the blade slam into his chest, crack through his ribs and exit his back. The heat of blood pulsing down his chest and choking up in his throat. The surprise in the soft hazel eyes that he had loved as she realized what happened.

He had believed, even when his heart had told him it was a lie.

This lie had cost him too much.

He was haunted by the sound of her soft voice calling his name, the disbelief in her eyes as he performed his duty. No one could perform an act of aggression toward a House of the Aristocracy and live. An act of violence against the woman his Sire loved was just as if that blade had been raised against Gilchrist himself. With the last of his strength, the blade clutched tight in one fist was driven through her heart in one quick thrust, as the other severed her head from her body.

And he had welcomed death.

The man who had centuries ago, taken a broken boy, lost and left for dead after the brutal slaughter of his parents, stood now from his large backed chair. He could still remember that day, the kind voice that had pushed the dark blonde hair back from his twelve year old face with sympathy. His vision had been blurring, the knowledge that he was going to die bleeding into his consciousness.

Then Gilchrist had posed the question to him. It was an honor. His family had been servants to the House of Gilchrist for several generations. Terrified of death, he grasped the life line and walked eagerly into the Mist, taking his place at his Sire's side. Gilchrist raised him, passed on his guidance and wisdom, trained him, and made him into a warrior and what did he give in return?

"It is good to see you again Jason."

Jason Morgan didn't know what he expected. Recriminations. Disgust. Not this. No, never this. He owed Gilchrist his life and he had let his Sire down.

This night when the servants had raised him from the Gilchrist crypt he had been staggered to find himself gifted with the honor. The place beside him was empty and he wondered if the past years had been a dream. Closing his eyes he searched deep within himself, discovering the dual heartbeat and knew the truth.

He was taken to his bedroom, finding it just as he had left it. Disconnected, he looked through the things that had once meant so much to him. The books. The weapons displayed in the glass casing on the wall. Thankfully the paintings of Courtney had been stripped away and hopefully burned to ash so that he would never be visually reminded of his disgrace again. It was enough that it smoldered in his heart.

After a shower and change from his Latent robes into the long-sleeved black turtleneck and black jeans over his usual shitkickers, he felt almost like the warrior from before.

Almost.

Strong arms embraced him tightly, and Jason returned the gesture, feeling his throat close, eyes fill with unshed tears that he determinedly pushed away. When Gilchrist pulled away, clasped his neck in an emotional grip, the man allowed a small smile to touch his mouth. "I asked you here first to thank you."

"Thank me? What thanks do I deserve after everything I've done?"

"You protected my wife. You honored this House. Never think otherwise." His Sire drew in a breath, "I have had fifty years with Sasha, because of your sacrifice."

"There wouldn't have been a sacrifice if I had listened to reason. I was so infatuated with Courtney, that I couldn't see her treachery."

"The brush of first love is potent; you have nothing to be ashamed of. Come we have much to speak of before the others arrive. There is business in Port Charles that must be addressed and I would have you lead the others." Gilchrist nodded once in understanding, and then gestured for him to walk. They stopped at the table and finally he spoke again, "That can wait for later. I'm sure you want news of your systirs. Bailey became a member of my House as she was so young. I have tried to be the presence she needs, but it is obvious that no one will do except her kindreden."

"Bailey has always been stubborn." Though Gilchrist was her Sire as well, Bailey became his beloved systir the day she walked into the Mist. Unless he was mistaken, she was somewhere in the house pestering one of his kindreden to hurry up for the Gathering. "And Justyce?"

"She was Reawakened a week ago," his Sire informed him. "And has been pestering me since. She gave much to save you."

"She honors me everyday," Jason nodded with pride. Justyce was more than his systir. She was his best friend, his confidant. They hunted together, watched the other's back, fought together and would have died together had her will not been so strong. Justyce had tied her life force to his that fateful day he should have died. The only reason he lived was Justyce's determination and love.

"You honor us all."

Before he could refute those words, the doors swung open with a waft of violets. At the welcome sight, Jason bowed deeply. "My Lady."

"Get up Jase," was the amused reply along with the quick click of heels across the floor, "Before I allow this one to drool all over you."

Beautiful in a soft flowing gown of emerald whose train skimmed the floor behind her, Lady Sasha Broussard greeted him with a bright smile that made her chocolate eyes gleam with merriment. Held securely at her waist, a small babe, with a head of curly dark brown hair, eyes like his mother and the face of his father. "Now stand up and greet your namesake."

Humbled he straightened, looking first to his Sire and then his wife who chuckled at him. She placed the babe in his arms who curved into him, grabbing the front of his shirt and looking up trustingly. "Did you think we would not honor the man who brought us together?"

"I," he tried but she cut him off with a soft kiss of greeting to his mouth.

"We have missed you Jason. Welcome back to us."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Harbor View Towers.

It would do. At least that's what Keeley Marcello thought as she slipped the final sale documents into her briefcase. The previous owner of the building, Mike Corbin, was reluctant to part with the property but as she had learned money greased the wheels of immobility perfectly.

Technically, Mr. Corbin hadn't been the problem. It was petty mob boss, Sonny Corinthos, who held up the sale for almost a month. As owner of two penthouses within the building, Corinthos had been adamant in his refusal despite the fact that he currently resided in a spacious but well guarded mansion across town.

Insufferable bastard. Forcing her to endure three tedious dinner dates at a hole in the wall restaurant called the No Name. Corinthos poured on all his supposed charm to impress her. It only took ten minutes in his presence before she realized he was trying to sleep with her. If she had to see those damned dimples again, she wasn't to be held responsible for slapping the smirk off his face. She heard he had a reputation but this was ridiculous. The man had known her for less than a week. Did marriage vows mean nothing to him? Honor? Integrity?

Then she had the misfortune of meeting his vacuous harpy wife and felt a small twinge of sympathy for the man. Her files had indicated his marriage of almost ten years and the two children he shared with a Carly Spencer but they said nothing about the woman needing a trip to the rubber room. Keeley couldn't say who she felt more pity toward, Sonny for being married to the maniac or Carly for being tied to the adulterous bastard.

And someone actually allowed the two to breed?

After quietly excusing herself from the table to escape the arguing couple, the moment she sat down in the Bentley and gestured for the driver to return to the Metro Court Hotel, she called the real estate agent to begin looking for suitable properties. Furious at having wasted so much time only to not achieve her goal, she was shocked when the owner of the Towers called the next day and agreed to the sale.

She discovered the reason for the mobster's swift capitulation while sipping from a glass of wine and watching the news coverage of the explosion at the Corinthos Coffee Warehouse. Reporters were predicting an eminent mob war. As she watched the flames devour the structure she was inclined to agree. The small altercation between Corinthos and Luis Alcazar that required his attention worked in her favor.

Tonight's visit with Alexis Davis, attorney for Corinthos and Mike Corbin, cleared final signatures. This was merely a formality. The design company had already come in and renovated to her specific instructions. The security company had already rewired the building for the latest in state of the art defense measures.

The top floor was converted into one large dwelling and the floors beneath shared only two apartments each. It was a neat little idea she had copied from a movie and thought the familie would appreciate. Stepping into the elevator, Keeley took out her cell and made her call. When the line on the other end was answered, she smiled with contentment.

"The transaction is complete."

It was all she needed to say. "Very good Keeley. The others will arrive within the hour. They will meet you at your hotel. Have you taken care of that other business I left for you?"

"I'm on my way right now. It shouldn't be too difficult to get Mr. Luke Spencer to sell us the casino license. He's amiable but pretending to be otherwise. Enough money and he'll sign over the license." She rolled her eyes, "I swear, if this wasn't important I would wonder why you're making such a big fuss about this little rink dink city. Whoever heard of one casino license? It's ridiculous."

"The important thing is that I want the Atlantic Royale prepared to open its doors for business within the week." She heard the depth and authority in the masculine voice but also the complete confidence in her skills. After all this was her area of expertise.

The set up.

Keeley flicked raven waves away from her face revealing a glimmer of ruby on her earlobes, and steadfast determination. There was both beauty and strength in her face. She didn't need masculine appreciation to know that her skin glowed honey smooth, the expensive Donna Karan camel cashmere suit covered a body curvy and seductive. She wasn't a frail flower, no, she was confident. Secure of her role within her familie. She had learned over the course of her existence to make use of not only her beauty but of the brilliance that everyone of her line possessed.

There was no way, some small time aging wannabe adventurer would deter her from her goals. "The Atlantic Royale will be operational upon your arrival." She hadn't failed once since she had begun working in her position as legal counsel, and aside from the one glitch with Corinthos, she wouldn't now.

"I wasn't questioning your abilities systir," a soft chuckle came from the other end.

"I never said that you were, Raine," she quickly answered with the name few had knowledge of and even less dared to use. "I understand how important these first few weeks are. Have you spoken with the Alcazars yet?"

"No," and the clipped reply proved just how angry her kindreden truly was. "They are Aristocracy and as such believe they are above such meetings," he released a deep sigh of annoyance. "The Houses will not tolerate such blatant disregard no matter how old the Alcazar name is. We are all governed by the same laws. We all must uphold them."

Raine was more than angry. After more than two thousand years, someone had actually achieved the impossible.

Raine Gilchrist was pissed.

**XXXXX**

Sometimes it just didn't pay to sleep with married men.

All the lies and deceit, the sneaking around, it truly wasn't worth the effort. She couldn't even say that she was in love with him and that was the saddest part of all. The sex was good. Better than average but not amazing. Just good. So why was she putting herself through this?

They never went out in public. His face was just too well known for the risk. And his wife's biting tongue and savage temper was legendary throughout Port Charles. Call it selfish on her part, but just once she would like to be taken out to a restaurant for dinner. Maybe see a show. Take a ride or something, before coming back to her studio for sex. Was that too much for a mistress to ask for?

The man had money, they could afford to climb into one of his cars and drive into Manhattan if he was that pussy whipped. He was brave enough to have an affair, but not to risk being seen with her. She lifted an eyebrow in annoyance, too bad it wasn't her pussy that had him whipped. Otherwise she wouldn't be laying here across her bed feeling like a second class citizen.

A mistress.

Oh, goody, just what she had always wanted to be when she grew up. Some man's ass on the side.

Samantha McCall watched as her current lover stepped from her bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, another scrubbing the wet from his thick black hair and struggled to keep a pleasant expression on her face. It was what she was here for after all. She was the place Sonny Corinthos came to get away from the stresses in his life. The wife too much trouble, the kids getting on his nerves, the business too hectic, good ol' Sam McCall had the cure for all your problems.

P-u-s-s-y.

Maybe she was cheapening things between them, because Sonny had been nothing but kind to her. When she first arrived in Port Charles she had been alone, a stranger in a strange city determined to make a life for herself. The position at the weird little herbal shop was only meant to be temporary. Yet, Zinnia Giambelli, the elderly woman who hired her was a blessing in disguise.

Zinnia was perfectly willing to help her learn. After discovering Sam had no place to live, Zinnia graciously offered her the studio above the shop free of charge. Sam protested, not wanting to feel as if she were taking advantage, but Zinnia explained that she preferred having someone above the store for security. Sam could have pointed out the state of the art system she watched Zinnia key into every evening, but figured maybe Zinnia missed having family to fuss over.

Sam met Sonny one afternoon over lunch at Kelly's. He walked into the diner, looking distinguished and urbane in a black wool coat and his smile of hello and made her heart race. For a month he courted her with roses, expensive chocolate, cozy dinner at what she had thought was his house. She should have known he was too good to be true. Two days after sleeping with him, she discovered he was not only married, but a father and worse, the biggest mobster on the eastern seaboard.

And yet he convinced her to stay with him.

Now after six months of this hide and seek game she was getting fed up. The marriage wasn't going to end and she didn't want to be responsible for breaking up a family. Yet, every time she tried to broach ending things, Sonny found another excuse, more charm and they ended up in bed together.

Sonny slipped into his Saville Row suit and finger combed his wavy hair before turning back to her with a smile. He was perfectly prepared to escape like a thief in the night with no shame for the damage he was causing his marriage. And this was the man she was involved with?

"I'm sorry about rushing out like this."

The phone call he received while they were laying in bed was actually a relief. She had been trying to figure out a way to get Sonny to leave and coming up blank. From the look on his face it was business, and not coffee business she smirked to herself, but that other more deadly business he tried to pretend she didn't know about.

"It's no problem, really," she allowed a smile to curve her lips and stood from her wrought iron sleigh bed. She didn't bother to re-knot the belt of her red silk kimono, nor repair the shaggy hair that tumbled carelessly over her shoulders. Sonny liked her with the just fucked look and given that she was seriously considering ending this mess, he might as well get one last look.

"I understand. Its business. Really, don't worry about it Sonny, I'm fine."

She went willingly when he pulled her into his embrace, tilting her head back for the touch of his mouth even as she wrapped her arms around his waist. The kiss was hard and searching and thankfully brief. When Sonny pulled away, the self satisfied expression in his eyes made her want to stomp on his foot. At least one of them had enjoyed it.

"I'll call you tomorrow, maybe we can meet." He patted her head and she felt like a puppy, or perhaps a wayward child.

"I have work tomorrow night," she lied easily. If she had to make work down at the shop, she would happily hot wax the floors, clean all the shelves and alphabetize obscure herbs. Only she couldn't put this off indefinitely. Her self esteem had taken enough of a beating these past six months, the least she could do was end things on her terms. "Maybe we can have dinner here on Friday?" Two days was soon enough to break things off.

"I can't," he shrugged, "Carly's having one of her dinner parties. Her mother made some new friend at the hospital. Supposedly well connected, old money. You remember me telling you how Carly is about impressing people like that. I can't get out of it."

As they walked across the hardwood floors to the door so that he could leave, Sam knew Sonny could get out of the dinner if it was business but she said nothing. Very soon this would no longer be part of her life, "Then how about Saturday evening?"

"I have business but I can make it afterwards," he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now you remember the guard is looking out for you. If you have any problems call Ric."

The last person on the planet she would ever voluntarily call was Sonny's sociopath brother. Ric Lansing made her skin crawl the way he was always looking at her. She didn't know if it was sexual, or if Ric was just creepy that way but Sonny's right hand man made her want to take a long hot shower if she was ever in his presence for more than thirty seconds.

"There won't be any problems." She assured him. "I'll talk to you Saturday." After a final bruising kiss, she closed the door after him and released a heavy sigh.

"And hopefully that will be the last time."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When the House of Gilchrist made its entrance every man, woman and child stopped and stared. Time drew to a halt as two of the drivers draped in all black held open the doors of the Metro Court Hotel and bowed deeply at the waist. A brisk wind kicked up a whirl of snow in the air and sent a chill down the back of the guests standing around the lobby who had ceased all movement.

Carly Corinthos paused in the middle of her argument with her mother Bobbie Spencer forgetting the very important point she had been in the middle of making. She had no idea who these strangers were but being married to Sonny Corinthos for ten years taught her what danger looked like. These people weren't dangerous.

They were predators, plain and simple.

She was reminded of the afternoon she took her son and daughter to the zoo and Michael pointed out the black jaguars and called them cool. Her son hadn't been able to understand what lay beneath that sleek, still surface but she had. It was the same simmering threat she sensed looking at the group of individuals who had walked through the door.

A tall African-American man entered first dressed elegantly in a black turtleneck and a perfectly customized black Armani. If anyone had asked how she could tell, she would have been happy to expound on her knowledge of good Italian tailoring. From the cut of his suit, she knew he was strapped. The guards that Sonny insisted follow her around Port Charles all wore shoulder holsters like that.

Bald, skin the color of rich sinful chocolate, with a goatee framing a sensual mouth, the man exuded masculinity with such force that it could make a woman's knees weak before she could brace herself.

Beside him was an Asian man, tall, clad in black as well, in a cassock styled jacket and pants. He looked powerful, despite the lean and sinewy length of his body. Shaggy hair, black as the night shadowed a handsome face, a generous mouth and dark eyes with a mystic there that made her wonder what secrets he was concealing. This one wasn't carrying a gun, not with the fit of that jacket, but that in no way lessened the lethal aura surrounding him.

A young woman entered next, slender and petite dressed in black skirt that dragged the floor with each light step, a sheer white tuxedo blouse and a leather u-neck vest that hugged just beneath firm high perched breasts. She looked like a gypsy with that wealth of dark hair curling wildly around her delicate face. Cerulean eyes gleamed with mischief as she lifted one of the many necklaces around her neck out of the way with fingernails tinted with black polish.

She smiled and said something to the Asian man, then turned to glance back over her shoulder. Carly followed her line of sight to the woman who walked in behind her. She was also draped in black like her companions. Sleek black pants, turtleneck and stiletto boots, she walked like a model on a catwalk. Long chestnut brown hair was scraped brutally back into a single ponytail that hung over the shoulder of her military styled coat. Beautiful despite the austere expression on her face, the woman was no less dangerous than her companions.

Unlike the others, the wind blew open her ankle length coat, revealing the shoulder holster and the butt of the guns in them.

Despite all of this, it was the final man who entered who made Carly Corinthos weak with lust.

He walked as if he could lay waste to anything in his path. Not even Sonny with all of his money and power, his guns and guards, carried himself this way. Tawny brown hair was cropped close to his head, framing a face that spoke of power and ageless strength. It wasn't his passionate mouth that drew the eye, nor his gorgeous face. It was his eyes. So compellingly blue, they struck a vibrant cord deep inside her. Made her think dirty thoughts. And made her want to think up a few more still.

He too wore all black. A fitted v-necked sweater and black trousers that emphasized every nuance of his beautifully proportioned body, from the broad chest that strained for freedom against the merino wool, to the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips as he walked, to his long silent feline gait despite those boots he wore.

Carly glimpsed the shoulder holster beneath his leather jacket but didn't doubt for one moment that those two guns were the only weapons this man carried. Hell, the man himself was a fucking weapon. She watched him place a guiding hand at the base of the young girl's back and together they walked forward. Unable to resist, her eyes followed their progress as they walked straight to the woman Carly had caught Sonny having dinner with that night at the No Name.

"Mama," she whispered harshly, "That's the woman I told you about who was with Sonny. She bought Harbor View Towers from Mike."

"Really," Bobbie Spencer looked in their direction but Carly grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "What are you doing?"

"Don't stare at them," she rolled her eyes, wondering how her mother could be so oblivious sometimes.

"Then how else am I going to see, Carly? That's Keeley Marcello. She a lawyer with that Gilchrist Corporation I was telling you about. The woman who made the generous endowment to the hospital. She bought Luke's casino license from him."

"What?" Carly forgot all about being discreet then. "Luke wouldn't sell that license to just anyone. Hell the city has been trying to get that license from the Haunted Star for years and this Keeley woman just waltzes into Port Charles and gets Luke to do the impossible."

"Not all that impossible," Bobbie smirked, "Six million dollars is more money than Luke would have ever gotten for it." At her gaping intake of breath, her mother nodded, "That's right. She cut him a check today right there on the boat. Evidently, her employers are opening a new casino in the new building near the docks."

"Sonny isn't going to like that," Carly pursed her lips, thinking of her husband's business and the fact that he used to clean money through the Haunted Star.

"Well, you and Sonny will have the opportunity to meet her on Friday."

"That's her? The woman you told me came from old money?" The woman certain to become apart of Port Charles society and that Carly intended to use as her stepping stone to that exclusive place herself. "She's just a lawyer?"

"Evidently, her brother is the CEO of Gilchrist Corporation." That was all well and good, but Carly could see her invitations to the exclusive Port Charles Country Club being shredded to bits. This Gilchrist Corporation was going to be trouble of a different sort. Sonny's sort. Especially if the muscle that just walked through those doors was any indication.

No one invited the mob into the upper echelons of society no matter how old their money was.

However, blue eyes was trouble she didn't' mind getting into. Sonny thought she was stupid and blind to his affairs. Especially with that McCall woman. Maybe it was time to show her husband that he wasn't the only one who could be unfaithful.

This one looked like the perfect boy on the side.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Zinnia Giambelli was everything Sam wished to be. Confident, intelligent, sophisticated, generous and an ageless beauty, Zinnia had figured out who she was and exactly how she wanted to live her life a long time ago and kept true to herself.

Every evening at five-thirty when _Midnight's Mist_ opened its doors, Zinnia walked straight through the quaint little shop straight to the back kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. Something calming to start the evening, the older woman told her once. Today would be no different.

Sam walked down the stairs from her studio dressed for work in a simple cashmere drape neck tunic and flare leg pants both in a rich burgundy and finished placing the last pin into the messy twist of her hair. After she received her first paycheck, she went out and bought new clothes suitable for the cozy elegance of the shop instead of the usual low rise jeans and fitted sweaters she wore in the winter.

The first day she wore her new clothes, Zinnia gave her a slight nod of approval and Sam felt strangely pleased. It wasn't that she was trying to impress Zinnia, because the older woman had said nothing of her clothes but Sam had seen Zinnia's regular clientele.

Sure they got the occasional tourist or curious walk ins but _Midnight's Mist _had two very distinct types of patrons. There were the Goth types; they always looked like they were trying so hard with their pale faces and black clothes. All of them were knowledgeable, which for the first couple of months Sam couldn't claim and all were extremely respectful of Zinnia.

The second type was the wealthy. It wasn't just rich in the way some people wore money. Like Sonny in his expensive suits and his big mansion and body guards and the way he liked to spend regardless of the cost. No these people were what polite society called old money. Affluence and tradition bred so deep in their bones that you could smell the class distinction as it oozed from their pores.

Most of them ignored her and would only deal with Zinnia, which was insulting at first. Gradually some of the younger ones were willing to speak with her but only after she had changed her look to the more stylish one she adopted.

As expected, Zinnia announced her presence as the melodic chimes above the door twinkled out gaily. "Samantha, I am here."

"I'm still in the back," Sam called out and walked over to the sink and began filling the tea kettle with cold water to sit on the stove to heat. Zinnia stepped inside with a loving smile, holding her usual bag from the bakery down the street.

Everything about Zinnia Giambelli was petite, the dainty features of her face, her small hands and wrists, and her slender body. Yet she broadcasted a regal character that all who knew her esteemed. She had to be at least seventy-five years old, but she carried herself with such grace and dignity that Sam could believe her to be fifty. Her sable hair was cut into a neat chin length bob, with a swath of silver right in the front to curve over her eyes.

"So what do we have today?"

"Today's treat," Zinnia paused and shook the bag. "Almond biscotti. Not as good as my Nana used to bake." She shrugged setting the bag down on the table.

"They're never as good as your Nana used to make." Sam laughed at the usual complaint. "But that never stops you from buying them."

"We cannot have tea without something to go with it." Zinnia took down a small white platter and began arranging the biscotti. "If you would allow me to show you how to bake them, then we would not have to suffer through such an inferior product."

"No." Sam lifted a brow. "We'd suffer through a burnt product instead and still have to buy them from the bakery."

Zinnia waved off her words. "You put yourself down too much child. A little practice and you would be fine. Do you think I was born knowing how to bake? It took months before I was capable of creating biscotti that my Nana considered tolerable. Tis a shame you have no family to teach you these things, Samantha."

Growing up with a con artist father and a mother who had ditched them both before she turned ten, no, Sam didn't really see herself baking in the kitchen. Working a good game of three card Monty, yeah. "What about your family? Why are you here in Port Charles alone and not surrounded by grandchildren that you can teach to bake?" It was something that had bothered her to no end. This wonderful woman should not be alone. She should be surrounded by loving family.

"My familie is scattered around the world, our business makes it impossible for them to be here with me." Zinnia sighed regretfully. "I have distant relations here in Port Charles that always stop in to see me, come to dinner on Sundays to pay their respects but it is not the same as my familie in Sicily."

At the sad look in her eyes, Sam felt horrible for reminding her. She placed a comforting touch on her shoulder, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No." A slender, and almost fragile hand came to rest on top of hers. "It shows that you care, Samantha. Everyone needs someone to care for them, yes?"

"If you miss Sicily so much, why stay here in Port Charles? Why not go back there?" When Zinnia spoke of her home there, it was with a wistful poignancy that made Sam wish for a home like that for herself.

"My place for now is here," Zinnia patted her hand, then moved to the tea kettle that had begun to whistle. "When it is time to go home, another will come to mind the shop and watch over the familie here." She took a quick breath, and smiled again, "Now you go sit and I'll bring out the tea."

There was no use in arguing, Sam had tried that in the beginning and discovered its futility. If she ever thought she was stubborn, then Sam could take obstinate lessons from Zinnia Giambelli.

The small area of the store where they shared evening tea looked remarkably like some Italian grandmother's sitting room with it's old world furniture, muted lighting from stained glass lamps and even those white doily things. Sam took her usual place on the loveseat and waited.

Moments later, Zinnia emerged carrying the tray with a beautiful tea service setting it carefully down. She adjusted the mauve silk mandarin collared jacket around her hips so that it fell open neatly over the black pants she wore then sat next to her. Zinnia told her once that the service had been in the Giambelli family for many generations. Sometimes she was almost afraid to touch the delicate china for fear of breaking it.

Today's soothing blend, chamomile blossoms, hibiscus flowers, spearmint, lemon grass and rose petals with a nice hint of blackberry leaves, a family blend just like all of them were. Zinnia smiled as she poured them each a cup. Then offered one of those little cubes of sugar and Sam felt as always like she had stepped back into another time.

Now, she was a black coffee kind of girl, but seeing Zinnia comfortable with her elegant tea cup, sipping the fragrant brew or taking a small bite of one of those biscotti made the little cup of tea more than endurable. It became a nice routine that she didn't mind adopting.

"So," Zinnia set down her cup and saucer onto the table, "Have you rid yourself of that Mr. Corinthos yet?"

Sam chuckled, placing fingertips to the bridge of her nose, "No, not yet." She cracked open an eye to see the disapproving gleam in Zinnia's soft green eyes. "I will, really."

"It is not my place," she sighed, and though Sam wasn't one of Zinnia's grandchildren that she liked to brag about, she certainly was getting the guilt trip of one. "I just know that you are better. You deserve better," she emphasized gently. "You are a young woman with her entire life ahead of her. You need a man who will treasure you, adore you. Love you with all of his soul. Not some pathetic excuse for a man who runs around on his wife and children."

"You're right," Sam agreed, and it was times like this when she knew her decision to end things with Sonny was the right one. It was only when she was with Sonny and she felt so alone that it was hard. "I'm ending it on Saturday when I see him again."

"I hope you don't mind my interfering," Zinnia began and Sam had to laugh at that. First, Zinnia did whatever she liked, including interfering, but always with affection and never malice. Second, Zinnia's feelings about Sonny were perfectly clear and had been from the moment they met. She was probably one of very few people that Sonny's charm or dimples hadn't worked on.

Instead Zinnia had glared at him through the introduction, politely nodded in that aristocratic manner that Sam wished she could emulate and treated Sonny as if he should be kissing her feet in gratitude for being graced with her presence. Then she left the room murmuring in Italian, words that Sam knew weren't complimentary.

"I just want what's best for you, child. And the best is not Mr. Corinthos."

"I know," Sam set her own cup aside, folding her hands in her lap. "It's just hard Zinnia. Other than you and Sonny, I don't know anyone here in Port Charles. I come down for work in the evenings. Sometimes in during the day, I go for lunch at Kelly's, take a walk in the park."

"Tis difficult to make friends," she nodded in understanding. "But you shall never do so as long as you are connected with that man. He keeps you bound to him Samantha, and not in a good way. Your relationship is not built on affection and trust. But secrets, and hiding. Lies. If you wish to make a good life, you must do the right thing."

Zinnia rubbed a comforting hand down her back and up again to rest on her shoulder, "Alone is not so bad, when it is filled with possibilities. Alone and trapped within a life that is cold and barren, this is not what you want for yourself."

She tucked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her head, so that Sam was looking into her timeless eyes, the kindness and wisdom she saw there made her feel that she wasn't so alone after all.

"Faith, Samantha. Have faith that you will find the love you deserve."

**XXXXXXXX**

The apartment wasn't so bad, despite the security risks it presented. Keeley chose well for their duration here in Port Charles. They had come here yesterday after she checked out of the hotel.

He preferred not to rely on cameras, and the twenty five men that came with them would find their personal time nonexistent. The ten additional men that would arrive with Gilchrist and Duncan would serve them well. Until then the risk was minimal. Two guards would be permanently placed in the elevator. Two on the penthouse floor and four on the first with a rotating detail of four, in the basement, around the perimeter of the building, in the parking garage and on the roof.

It wasn't their estate in the midst of the Cantabrian Mountains of Spain, but it would be fine for now. Each Warrior had his own dwelling. The Heads of the House would reside on the penthouse floor and Keeley would stay with them. Justyce and Bailey chose to live with him and Bailey was already making plans to change the entire place around. It matter not to him or Justyce, this was just temporary. Spain was home.

Duncan would be across the hall. Rafe and Law were the next floor down. The other selected members of the team would live beneath them and the remaining apartments would be kept empty.

Jason walked to his balcony and opened the doors to let in the cold night air, drew a deep breath in to his lungs. It had been three weeks since his Reawakening and though he wasn't feeling quite himself, he was perfectly capable of handling the beginning stages. His reflexes were still a little slow, and he was feeding more than usual but that was to be expected under the circumstances. By the time any real action was necessary he would be fine.

Gilchrist and Sasha would be arriving in two days along with Duncan and the other selected security detail. Since that attempt on Sasha's life, Gilchrist always kept extra guards around Sasha and now with the babe's birth, Jason preferred Duncan at their side as much as possible. He had wondered if his kindreden would be reluctant to relinquish his position of second, but Duncan had assured him that he was more than ready for Jason to retake his place.

"You know," an amused feminine voice spoke up from behind him, "I think I heard somewhere that if you stand in the moonlight too much, you can go crazy."

He glanced back over his shoulder with a rare smile to find his beloved systir standing there. Bailey. So grown up now. A woman who had come into her own abilities and strengths. All without him when he had promised to always be there for her. Growing up with Sasha and Gilchrist was probably the best thing that could have happened. With him and Justyce always off hunting or guarding the familie, they wouldn't have been able to guide the young fledgling into adulthood properly.

He could still remember that cold February night when he found Bailey lost in the snow in Romania. He was with a hunting party delivering a death sentence along with his kindreden and systir. They had come upon the smoky ruins of the village, the dead bodies slaughtered mercilessly and left to rot like garbage. It was a blatant disregard for life and against every rule the Houses had set forth for all of their kind.

Somehow Bailey had escaped the carnage into the forest but dressed only in that thin blouse and long skirt dragging in the snow, she would have died of exposure long before she managed to find her way to another village. Terrified of the others, somehow she managed to trust him and collapsed weakly into his arms to weep hysterically. He took her back to their lodgings while the others dealt with the dissents.

It had been strange, dealing with a child when it had been centuries since his own childhood. Justyce became his systir as an adult but that didn't make their bond any less strong. Yet this small child looking at him from those devastated eyes managed to send him straight back to that night his own family had been massacred.

In the gentlest voice he could manage, he had vowed to protect her from any harm. After staring into his eyes for the longest time, she had crawled from her spot curled into the furthest corner of the room and cautiously climbed into the bed where he sat to go to sleep.

It took almost a year before she would speak, so he had chosen a new name for her. Bailey. When he asked what her true name was, her eyes had become haunted again and he had hated putting that emotion there. Through that year she had cautiously come to trust not only him but Justyce and the others as well. Though she didn't speak, Bailey had been the light they had all been missing.

She had curled into his arms and told him in a voice much older than her years that girl was dead. She was Bailey now and he didn't push her otherwise. They waited until she turned twenty one before asking her to join the House of Gilchrist completely. If she had relatives, it no longer mattered to him. She was his familie and he would have killed anyone who tried to take her away.

Now that gangly child was gone and here was a lovely woman.

"I'm sorry I failed you," was all he could manage to get out. He had failed her. He had vowed to protect her, to always be there for her and due to his stupidity she had been left alone with not even Justyce to care for her.

"Sasha warned me that you would be feeling guilty," she crossed the room to him, slipping an arm around his waist to look into the night sky with him. "So let me just tell you now, to forget it."

"I left you."

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes, "You have been the best thing that ever happened to me. Did I ever tell you why I went to you that day and not any of the others?"

She never talked about that time, "You were so young, I guess I never thought about it before. I really didn't think you remembered much of it." He would have preferred that she forgot all the trauma of that night.

"I remember it just like it was yesterday. That night in the woods, in the lodge with you. I remember it all." She whispered and pulled from his arms to lean against the guard rail. The years faded away and instead of the woman with long flowing hair and dressed in soft blue velvet Godet dress that matched her eyes, she was that little girl again.

"It was midnight when they arrived, you could hear the screams ringing through the village. My mother had sent me from our house to flee as best I could while my father answered the door. The snow soaked through my shoes first but I kept running just like she told me only I got lost."

"Bailey, no." he reached to take her hands in his and she squeezed them gently.

"I sat down in the bushes to rest. I was cold, soaked with snow and shivering so badly my teeth were chattering in my head. Then I saw you all. It was so terrifying, like before when the others came but I covered my mouth so I wouldn't scream. I saw Duncan first, with all his tattoos and those leather breeches he likes to wear while he's hunting. Then Law. I watched him scan the area and he had these long swords in his hands. Then he whistled and Rafe leapt down from the trees."

She looked at him then, a small smile playing around her mouth, "You remember those robes he used to wear."

"Before you made him watch that stupid movie." Jason reminded her.

"Can I help it if Rafe looks good in Keanu wear," she snickered, free of the past for that one brief moment. "Then you and Justyce hit the ground. Almost in front of me. If I had wanted I could have reached out and touched your leg. The two of you were so in sync. Like looking in a mirror. She had on all this leather just like yours and you had your katanas but though you were equals I knew she deferred to you. They all deferred to you."

"I am Heres, Gilchrist's first Scion. Of course they deferred to me."

"But I could see that trust in their eyes, their actions. And you weren't like those others. Cold, yes. Hell Jason, you could frost pure flame with that stare of yours. And ruthless. It was in your voice as you told them to search the area."

"I had picked up your scent by then and didn't want you to be discovered by the others." He explained, "I didn't want you to witness us carry out their sentence."

"When you finally found me, kneeled down in front of me, I knew that you weren't going to hurt me. You smelled of snow and leather. Like the night, and some dark danger that I didn't understand, but I knew you were different."

"And that's why you huddled in that corner for hours, because you trusted me?"

"Trust no. Believed you, yes. I could see that truth in your eyes. I went to you that night because your eyes reminded me of my father's. I knew I would be safe with you." She placed a hand to his face, "You do not have to apologize for being the Warrior I've always admired."

"But-"

"But what? You spent fifty years in Latent state because you were willing to sacrifice your own life when a traitor tried to kill Sasha. You think I am angry?" She threw herself into his arms then, hugging him so tight that he could feel her limbs trembling. She snuggled deep against his chest, before releasing a deep sigh. "I am honored that you are my kindreden. I am honored that we are familie. That I am a Morgan and you took me for systir. I could ask for no better familie than you and Justyce."

Jason closed his arms around her, resting his chin against the top of her head and felt a large portion of the guilt he carried lift from his heart. "I have missed you Bailey."

"I missed you too Jason."

"You missed her, she missed you, and we're getting very sentimental here to be the enforcers of the House of Gilchrist."

They both glanced up to find Justyce behind them with her hands folded across her chest and a smile on her face. She looked less like a warrior and more like a woman in the simple navy pants and the teal cowl neck crocheted sweater. Her hair hung in simple waves around her face, a hint of vulnerability that Justyce only allowed here in their private chambers.

She laid her head on his shoulder, before running a hand through Bailey's hair. "Missed you kid."

This was really the first time the three of them had alone together since leaving Madrid. He slipped an arm from around Bailey to pull his other systir into their hug. The gathering after his and Justyce's Reawakening had been a celebration for the House. Other Houses had arrived to pay their respects and then there was the business that sent them all here to Port Charles, New York leaving little time for the Morgan familie to be alone.

"Thank you for saving him," Bailey whispered, catching Justyce's hand and holding it to her cheek.

Jason could still hear Justyce's voice yelling at him, demanding that he hold on and fight to live. He had been so weak by then, completely helpless despite all of his strengths and accepting of his death. The sword that Courtney was going to drive through Sasha's heart had been dipped in poison.

While the blade itself wouldn't have killed him the poison working its way through his body so that it couldn't heal itself would have. It would force his body to slowly, painfully, bleed out. Then it would have destroyed all of his internal organs, forcing his heart to overcompensate and eventually give out.

Only Justyce's tenacity wasn't to be underestimated. He hadn't know that she knew those chants, that she had studied those healing herbs, that she would make the amazing forfeit of her own life so that she could remain with him during Latent and help him heal.

They had put him and his systir in the Gilchrist crypt together to sleep until his body was strong enough to function for a Reawakening. Fifty years they lay at rest and he knew he owed his continued existence to Justyce.

Even now if he stilled, he could hear both of their heartbeats beating in unison. His familie was together again and he would do everything within his power to make sure it stayed that way.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three **

"A suit and tie won't kill you Jason."

He glared at Keeley in disgust as he walked down the stairs. Without responding he threw the blue printed tie that Bailey had laid out on his bed across the room and watched as it fluttered uselessly to the ground.

Useless.

That's all the fucking things were anyway. A damned waste of time. A noose for a man who hated anything tied around his neck.

"You're lucky I'm accompanying you to this thing at all." He growled and didn't miss the distinctive laughter of his kindreden who lounged in his living room.

Somehow Keeley was convinced that going to this gathering at the Corinthos' was a good way to take a measure of the man and see how deep his involvement with Luis and Lorenzo Alcazar went. Sitting around playing nice with a bunch of humans wasn't his idea of getting business taken care of. Yet when his Sire arrived tomorrow, he wanted to be able to tell him more than your apartment looks nice.

It didn't mean that he had to like it.

He was an immortal, a one thousand year old vampire of the House of Gilchrist. He and his familie were the enforcers of their people. The hunters whose names were whispered in dread. Warriors who upheld the Laws and delivered death sentences. Jason Morgan. Duncan Maitland. Rafe Kitase. Law Alhambra. Justyce Morgan. It was an honor to be the Scion of Raine Gilchrist, the most feared vampire of them all. All of their people, the Aristocracy, the Sorcerers, the Healers and the familie of the lesser Houses knew of them. Respected their House.

The last thing he should have to do is suffer through a human dinner party.

When the celebration of his and Justyce's Reawakening ended, the other Houses had settled in for a tribune against the Alcazar House. It was a rare and astonishing judgment of the Aristocracy to move against one of their own. Jason knew there was growing dissent among the three Houses and that the younger Scion of Armando Alcazar were growing audacious in their blatant disregard of the Laws and it seemed during his Latent the situation had finally come to a head.

It wasn't unusual for their people to move among the humans. Gilchrist himself was a wealthy powerful man in the human world. Yet the one Law that had to remain inviolate was the secrecy of their kind.

No one needed to be reminded of the fiasco with the House of Vladimir that had cast an unwanted light on their people. The fourth House of the Aristocracy had been decimated and all due to the stupidity of a younger son and his coveting of a human male's wife. Now there were books and superstition and all kinds of ridiculous nonsense of about vampires.

The absurd belief that being bitten by or exchanging blood with a vampire would turn a human into one was the most prevalent one. Walking into the Mist was as far removed from a single bite as planes, trains and automobiles were from each other. If a simple bite could turn a human, the earth would be populated solely with vampires. The only thing a blood exchange served was to form a bond.

One other illogicality claimed they were the walking dead. His heart beat within his chest just the same as a human's. His blood rushed through his body, his organs supported life within his body. He was immortal and a simple stake in the heart wouldn't kill him. His body would simply work to heal itself at a rate that most humans could never understand.

Their kind couldn't walk in the sun, their skin was much too sensitive to withstand the ultra violet rays but even humans couldn't tolerate direct sun exposure for too long. If they were beheaded of course they died. If you separated the brain from any living thing, the body would cease to function, in essence, death.

Centuries their people were forced to work to twist their existence into nothing more than fictional ramblings of an author seeking prosperity. They watched numerous witch hunts against the innocent, both human and vampire alike all slaughtered by those who feared what they could not understand. As science grew within the human world, most stepped away from the occult as explanation for things that went bump in the night. So for the most part their race succeeded in keeping their existence veiled.

There were always whispers, always someone who found a grain of truth and now the Alcazars were coming dangerously close to true exposure. Behaving as common criminals. Playing at Mafioso. Walking the edge of human laws by running guns, smuggling and selling drugs, dealing in prostitution and participating in insignificant territory wars. The Alcazar name meant more than the degraded level they were dragging it down to.

If the two scions could not be contained, it was the House of Gilchrist's responsibility to eliminate the threat. Armando Alcazar had no choice when faced with the offenses of his Scion but to accept the verdict and concur. Jason was of the opinion that this issue should have been dealt within House. Their impudence never should have grown to such levels that the House of Gilchrist was required to intervene.

"I should be going out tonight with the others," he muttered. Though they all seemed relaxed, each warrior was dressed to go hunting. There hadn't been many reports of bizarre deaths within Port Charles, but given the situation it was something to stay on the lookout for.

Not all of their people were discrete. It didn't require a human's death to feed, but there were many who thrived on the kill. The practice wasn't against their Laws but it was certainly frowned upon. This was the reason why more than two Houses were never allowed within the same city. While they were here within the city, it would be their responsibility to curtail any of these practices.

All in their usual black, the warriors would walk the streets tonight. Law strapped like no one's business, Rafe and his katanas riding low on his waist and Justyce. Damn it, he hated sending her out alone, especially so close to her Reawakening. If he was still weakened, then she would be as well.

Shit, it wasn't the first time he had sent his systir out without him. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself but he wanted her back protected just incase she should encounter any of Alcazar's Scion.

What was worse was Bailey going out tonight. Looking much too human for his tastes in those shamefully low cut jeans, the turquoise v-neck sweater and the cropped leather jacket; she would focus her patrol on the college campus and the local areas where the young human adults congregated. Law and Rafe assured him they had trained her well and she knew not to step into a situation that she couldn't' handle alone but to ask for help. It didn't make a damned difference. She was his systir. _Bailey_. A mere two hundred years old. Barely out of her fledgling state.

The imp in question licked her tongue out at him reading the directions of his thoughts. "Sucks to be you." Bailey wiggled her eyebrows at him and grabbed her knapsack off the table beside her chair slipping it onto her back. "Staring at me like that isn't going to make your night go any faster. The best you can do is go to the dinner, suffer in silence and head back here to change and go out on patrol."

"I'm still the eldest Bailey," Jason pointed out, which only served to make her laugh.

"I guess that's why you're acting like someone out of the dark ages. Come on Jason, you know the reason that Gilchrist wanted me along was because the Alcazar fledglings, Sage and Diego are in this as well. I was sent to infiltrate their car theft ring and shut it down. I can't do that with my elder kindreden looking down my back. It's bad enough that I had to drink those stinky herbs of Justyce's to conceal my House scent."

"I don't have to like it," he muttered and walked over to her. He pulled the pair of slender daggers out of his pocket and slipped them into her hand. He watched as she flicked them nimbly through her fingers at a speed that the human eye couldn't see, but a vampire's could. She was good; Rafe would have made sure of that.

"Rafe told me you liked these." Knife work required a Warrior to get down and dirty. You would never tell from Bailey's youthful demeanor that it was her specialty.

These ivory handled knives were the first pair that Gilchrist had gifted him with.

Blue eyes glimmered briefly, as she understood the gesture. The acceptance as a true Warrior of the Gilchrist House. "Thank you Jason."

He nodded and turned back to his team, "Stay in contact with each other. Rafe, Law if you encounter any of Alcazar's Scions don't engage them. I'm sure they are aware of our presence here in Port Charles and what it means but I don't want to be the first to make a move before Gilchrist can have the formal tribune with Luis and Lorenzo."

Both men nodded in understanding and stood from their seats. He turned to Justyce, "Keep an eye on both the Alcazar estate and their warehouses on the docks. I want an accurate account of what's coming in an out of there, what they're holding inside and just how many Scion they have created without the tribunal's consent."

"No problem," the side of her mouth curved in a smile of anticipation. After five hundred years, there was nothing Justyce liked more than a good hunt. The four of them walked to the balcony doors but as Justyce passed she pressed a kiss to his jaw and whispered, "She'll be fine."

He would have to trust that and believe. He couldn't hold Bailey's hand forever, or protect her from the path she had chosen. It was an insult. "We'll meet at midnight on Spoon Island, I want to investigate the caves that Keeley informed me of and I'd prefer to do that as a unit."

Bailey snickered and waggled her fingers goodbye, knowing it would infuriate him. "Have fun." The four climbed onto the guard rail and he didn't miss the twitch of amusement on all of their faces.

As one they shimmered into Mist.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Exactly how had going out for ice cream turned into an exercise in terror?

That was the question that continued to echo through her head over and over along with the rumbling sound of tires speeding along the road. The smell of rubber, gasoline and something that she preferred to not think about too hard filled her lungs. Her arms throbbed along with her panicked heartbeat because they were tied behind her back so tightly. The duct tape around her mouth was starting to suffocate her and to top matters off perfectly...

Her nose was itching.

It was remarkable the stupid things the mind could focus on when it was too frightened to admit the fact that she, Sam McCall, could quite possibly be dead this time tomorrow night.

This was supposed to be a simple trip to the grocery store. Granted it was almost eleven, but she hadn't been able to sleep because she was so nervous about breaking things off with Sonny tomorrow. She tried cleaning out her closest. She reorganized her bookcases, her cupboards and even scrubbed her bathroom. Exhausted she took a hot shower and changed into a pair of grey sweats but by the time she laid down to go to sleep her brain had leapt back into action thinking up different scenarios on how Sonny would take her news.

Thinking a late night snack and a good romance novel would help she grabbed the latest Nora Roberts book and went to the kitchen to get the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough from her freezer only to find she had already finished it off. Now that the craving was there nothing else would do, so she slipped into a pair of sneakers and grabbed her parka from the chair and her purse from the table beside the door.

Maybe she should have thought twice about leaving so late. She was involved with Sonny Corinthos and the man was currently involved in a mob war with the Alcazar brothers so she should have known that she could possibly be a target.

And hind sight was twenty/twenty of course.

When the three goons stepped out of the alley beside the convenience store, her first thought was to run, so she had. Dropping the two half gallons of ice cream she took off down the sidewalk toward the lighted section of the street. Her only thought was to escape, if she truly had been thinking, she would have run back into the store.

She made it more than four blocks before an arm closed around her and jerked her back into a body that felt more like concrete than muscle. She didn't have a second to wonder how the guy had managed that before she was pulled struggling behind a building bound and gagged and tossed in the trunk of the car she was currently riding in.

One had pulled out a cell phone and made a call, then started speaking in rapid Spanish so all she could make out was her last name. Two of the men looked down at her, and then smiled gruesomely before slamming the trunk in her face. That was about the time she realized that the ice cream really wasn't worth dying for.

The trip was fast, and when the trunk opened the salty night air filled her lungs, much better than the stench of before. It meant she was on or near the docks. Somehow that thought just didn't comfort her. Visions of being shot in the head and tossed into the harbor eradicated that annoying itch on her nose. She pulled in deep heaving breaths and tried not to cry as large punishing hands grabbed her arms and yanked her from the trunk. Forced to walk inside the darkened warehouse, she released a muffled scream of pain as she was shoved to the ground.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks as her shoulder and hip began to ache and she tried to take heart that if she was feeling pain, it meant she was still alive. Only the last hope that flickered in her heart began to shrivel and die when all three men slipped Glocks from beneath their jackets and pointed them at her.

She had feared being beaten. She had feared being raped. Even with all that she would have been alive. Now that fear was being ripped away to the desolation that they were getting ready to kill her.

_It wasn't fair damn it!_

Killing her would mean less than nothing to Sonny. It wasn't like she was his wife, or even a part of his organization. She was just the woman he liked to have sex with on the side and she was going to die for that? Uselessly she struggled against the tape that bound her wrists together but that only served to amuse her captors.

Zinnia's words echoed through her head, how she had to have faith. Damn it if only she had listened. If only she had been stronger and cut Sonny loose weeks ago. She wouldn't' be kneeling her in the dirt and damp faced with a bullet in the head just because she had the misfortune of having bad taste in men.

_Please,_ she prayed silently, _if I get out of this I'll never settle for less than wonderful. I'll kick Sonny's trifling ass to the curb and I'll get out and make friends. I'll date men who respect me. I'll wait until I find the man who adores me heart and soul before I ever have sex again. Please just don't let me die. _

The deafening clicks of three guns being cocked made her jerk violently. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears still managing to leak free as her body began to quake. Each second clicked by like a death knoll. Her heart felt like it was going to rip through her lungs. In the silence amazingly she could hear water dripping. _Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop_. The incessant sound served to compound her fear until her stomach clenched so hard that she choked back vomit in her throat.

_Please._

He tried to tell himself that this didn't concern him. It was a human matter. When he passed over the docks on his way to Spoon Island to meet the others, he had watched the black sedan pull behind the Corinthos Warehouse. Curious he paused; his senses had already detected the presence of three vampires, most likely of the Alcazar House. Fledglings because they had yet learned to mask their presence well. He knew this was probably connected to the foolish mob war currently active within the city so he waited to see what the men would do.

When the three had exited the vehicle, and gone to the trunk, he had been shocked to catch the presence of a human. It had been masked with the odor of gasoline and old blood but the second the trunk opened the vitality of life had surrounded him. Not just human, but a female. A major offense of their kind.

Women were to be honored. They were the bringers of life for their kind. They were to be revered and not bound and gagged like an animal and tossed in the back of a car. And for what? Revenge. Territory. How low the House of Alcazar had sunk during his Latent.

His head told him to do nothing. Gilchrist wanted to keep things neutral and work out a compromise with the Alcazars. If possible convince them to return to South America under the guidance of their Sire. If he stepped in now, death would be carried out tonight and he would have taken a step that his own Sire might not approve.

It wasn't his responsibility to guard human life. It was his duty to enforce the Laws of his people and ensure the safety of his kind.

Then he watched them drag the woman toward the open door. Her dark hair a gleam in the moonlight, her pale face stricken with terror and a beacon to the remaining spark of empathy left in his soul.

_Wretched conscious._ He had thought Courtney's betrayal had snuffed that out fifty years ago when she shoved that katana into his chest.

_"Has the House of Alcazar lost all honor?" _He sent the thought out mentally and felt the stiffening reaction of the three men. Taking form on the roof of the warehouse, he awaited a response but none of them tried to answer. He had felt all three preparing to shoot the innocent unarmed woman in the warehouse. He felt her fear; smelt the salt of her tears, could hear the hammering of her heartbeat. Its rhythm pounded in his ears, nudging the edge of his fury to light.

It was one thing to kill as the Laws demanded.

It was one thing to feed as life demanded.

This was torture and the bastards were getting off on her horror. Thriving on of it. Enjoying themselves.

_"I am Jason Morgan, of the House of Gilchrist, and you are committing crimes against the Laws of our people. If you walk away now, I will allow you to live. If you continue, I will be forced to send you back to into the Mist for judgment for your actions. Decide now."_

Even fledglings knew of the House of Gilchrist. Yet these men were just arrogant enough to materialize before him in defiance. They were all large hulking men, dressed in dark ill fitting suits, more brawn than intelligence. It seemed the Alcazars went for muscle instead of men truly worthy. Neither of these three would have been given consent to step into the Mist by the tribunal. Another offense to add to their growing list. There were only six people capable of bestowing that gift without the approval of the tribunal and neither Luis nor Lorenzo Alcazar held that honor.

Jason felt his sight narrow, knew the gold rim of the Knowing circled around his cerulean irises and glowed brilliant. The atmosphere around him thickening as the blood began rushing through his body. The long leather duster he wore flailed around his feet, revealing the crescent blades strapped at his hips and the guns in the shoulder holster he wore. Judging from the guns they aimed in his direction, they truly believed that three against one were decent odds in their favor. He felt the fangs lengthen in his mouth in anticipation.

Greater vampires than these had made that mistake.

She didn't know how long she kneeled waiting for the pop of the guns aimed at her. After what could possibly be the longest moment of her life, she risked opening her eyes to find herself alone in the warehouse. Frantically, she searched the dark for her captors only to realize that she had been left here. How long did they plan to keep her here? Did they decide against killing her and would send a note to Sonny telling him that they had kidnapped her?

Not that it would matter. Sonny liked her, true, and he even liked having sex with her. But she knew that she was just another woman to him and easily replaced. This was only a temporary reprieve and if she had any hope of getting out of this alive she was on her own.

Tomorrow evening Zinnia would come to the store and see she was missing and she would call the police. Sam groaned in disgust, because by that time she could be dead. She would have to make a move long before then. Maybe if she could talk to one of the Alcazars she could convince them to let her go because she wasn't important enough to Sonny to make a difference. If she promised to leave town, they might be willing to let her live.

Who was she kidding?

Just herself it seemed.

The door of the warehouse swung open, and she braced for the sight of the three men from before, only to find the silhouette of one standing in the doorway. Soundlessly he walked forward, the clump of his booted feet pounded over her racing heartbeat. Determined to not cower in fear, she watched him close the distance between them, his scent, of leather and something unfamiliar but alluring filling her senses.

Mere inches away, he paused and she knew he was looking at her, but it was so dark that she couldn't make out his face. She swallowed back a whimper closing her fists, needing the bite of her nails in her palm so she didn't sob like a child. Slowly he squatted before her, and she had the impression of muscle tightening in powerful legs. His face emerged from the shadow and she was faced with wicked darkness and eyes that could tempt the devil.

"Are you okay?"

She was focused so intently on the husky tone that it took a moment to realize he had actually asked her a question. She didn't know why he didn't terrify her like those other three had, but there was something there in the depths of his eyes that told her she was safe with him. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, soft and sensual, and she felt her heart stutter to a halt, jerk, then begin to race for an entirely different reason.

"I said are you okay?"

"Mm, hmm," she murmured behind the tape and nodded her head to be certain he understood.

"I'm going to take this tape off as easily as I can." He warned an instant before his large hand cupped her face. His skin was a little cold but reassuring. The tape pulled slowly from her mouth making her whimper at the sting, "I'm sorry," he apologized, as if it were his fault that this had happened to her.

The moment her mouth was free she had to warn him, "You have to get out of here. They'll kill you if they find you here."

That mouth curved a bit at the edges, a hint of amusement there, "You don't have to worry. You're safe now." Carefully he helped her to her feet, then flipped open his coat and pulled out a lethal looking s-shaped knife. As her eyes widened with fear, he murmured, "I'm not going to hurt you." He proved it by slowly reaching behind her and began sawing at the tape wrapped around her wrists.

So close he was that she could feel the heat pour off his body. He completely surrounded her and given everything that had happened, she should have been shrieking in terror, not wanting to curl closer. There was just something about him and she couldn't understand why she was reacting to a complete stranger this way. Especially when he seemed oblivious.

When she was free, she automatically reached to soothe her wrists but his hands were there. He turned her hands palms up revealing the worst of the red welts that would be painful by tomorrow. They were already burning like fire and throbbing as the blood began circulating again. Before she could say thank you, he brought them to his mouth and closed his eyes.

Her heart stopped as he inhaled deeply and released a deep grumbling purr from low in his chest. It was the most sexually aroused sound she had ever heard in her entire life. Her body reacted as if he had physically touched her. Her breasts felt achy, nipples swollen and sensitive against the knit of her hoodie, her limbs strangely heavy and arousal pooled between her legs, wet, already prepared for the thrust of his cock.

He licked his lips, and then ran his tongue along the swelling on her left wrist. Her heart jolted to life as his eyes slowly opened and met hers, an eerie gold circle mixing with the blue of his seductively wolfish stare. This time when he trailed his tongue on her right wrist ending with a caress of his lips, his eyes held hers captive so she knew he could see the awakened response flooding her body.

He pulled her closer, releasing her wrists to push a strand of hair from her face. "What is your name?"

"Sam. Sam McCall."

"Samantha," he murmured, rolling the name against his tongue as if savoring it like a fine wine. "I would have liked to know you." He cupped her face in his hands and that gold in his eyes flared bright, so seductive that she couldn't look away. Just once, her heart begged. Just once she wanted to feel that mouth against her own. Sorrow appeared there as if he had read her thoughts and felt the same but could not comply. "Sleep and forget Samantha."

And she knew no more.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_"Please, if I get out of this I'll never settle for less than wonderful. I'll kick Sonny's trifling ass to the curb and I'll get out and make friends. I'll date men who respect me. I'll wait until I find the man who adores me heart and soul before I ever have sex again. Please just don't let me die."_

The softly whispered prayer echoed through his head relentlessly. With the sound of her voice brought the torturing images. First was one of the sheer black fright that filled her heart and sent hot exultant tears coursing down her cheeks. Survival, that innate human instinct, slowly died replaced with raw and primitive despair. His gaze had arrowed through the darkness with precision to her bowed form, trembling and kneeling there.

Something old, possessive, and hungry had rumbled awake within him. Feral, operating purely on the primordial foundation of existence, he drew the scent of her into his lungs. Feminine. A seductive hint of night blooming jasmine had lingered on her skin. He felt the exact moment when through that desolation, little by little hope returned.

Then he made the mistake of touching her.

The silk of her skin against his fingers would forever been imprinted on his soul. He had wanted to bury his face in her dark hair that was tossed into disarray by her traumatic circumstances. All he wanted was to allow his fingers to toy with the wisps teasing at her face and tilt her face back for his mouth.

_Mine._

The inner snarl of possession would have terrified her had he not mastered his emotions centuries ago. All she saw was calm concern while internally his blood had raged with almost savage hunger. He wanted to feel her beneath him, their bodies moving in unison toward passionate release. He wanted to sink his fangs into her neck while he pounded deep within her. He wanted the taste of her to fill him. Soothe him.

Desperation trapped him with the knowledge that this woman would lurk in his memory for all eternity. That face. Haunting him with her fathomless eyes. Utterly beautiful. A faintly rosy mouth that he knew without ever having sampled would be sweet. Lush.

He had known there would be consequences to lending his assistance to the woman but if he had any inkling how grave, he...

_"Please."_

The thought refused to form in his head. Blasphemy. To ever ponder the possibility of her death.

Now was not the time for this distraction. His Sire arrived in mere hours and he would have to explain why he had destroyed two Alcazar Scion when he was given specific instructions not to make the first move unless threatened. Gilchrist would understand, Jason worried not about that, but his Sire would see through to these troubling emotions. Gilchrist needed no doubts that he was capable of dealing with this situation.

This was not like Courtney. She was different from Courtney and that terrified him.

"You've been preoccupied since sunset."

Jason turned to the low, composed voice to find Rafe behind him in his usual black robes. His black hair hung to his shoulders from its usual center part, his face serene but revealing very little emotion. Rafe was Samurai and though centuries had past since his service and the day he walked into the Mist, that code was as much apart of his life today as it was the first evening they met.

Adaptation was essential to their existence. Yet, Rafe's inner peace and self-awareness would never change. Jason was grateful for that. If he needed honesty from his kindreden, it would always be unclouded of personal emotions here with Rafe.

"Is there something wrong? You were late last night to meet at Spoon Island and seemed distracted even then. You have explained about the Alcazar Scion and needing to take the human woman home. Did something more happen?"

"No. there's nothing wrong," he immediately answered, and closed his eyes to grip the metal rail tighter at the obvious lie. "There shouldn't be." He clarified in a voice that felt a little awkward. "I will handle it." And he would. Much better than he had dealt with the chaos that involved Courtney. He would not fail his House again by allowing his emotions to control him.

"It is not always you who must be strong for the House Jason," Rafe said, "We are kindreden. Allow us to be the same for you as well."

"I'm," _trying_, he finished to himself and again the image of her floated through his mind. Samantha. For a moment, he was tempted to reveal the conflict within him but at the last instant, he decided against it. "I'll be fine. Are the preparations for the tribunal completed? Gilchrist wants this gathering to go well."

"All is done," Rafe nodded though his eyes clearly stated that he knew there was more Jason wasn't telling. Rafe wouldn't push, and perhaps when this was all done he would tell his kindreden what had been troubling him. "You know this matter is a formality, of course."

"Of course I do. The Alcazar House is old and will not appreciate being taken to task for their crimes. Luis and Lorenzo are even more arrogant than Armando. Blood will be spilled. Death will come." He swallowed and coldly pushed her from his thoughts. Whatever connection had sparked between them was over. He would never see her again. They would deal with Alcazar and return to Spain and he could forget that he had found her.

"It is merely a matter of time until we are sent out. By our reckoning there are over one hundred vampires in the Alcazar House. More than half of them were created recently. The dregs of human society. Murders, drug dealers, the kindreden created an army of killers." Rafe didn't bother concealing his disgust. Honor meant everything to him and as a people their respect was owed to the Houses of Aristocracy. If Armando Alcazar could see what his Scion had reduced his House to, he would be appalled.

"Then we shall simply have to send them back into the Mist they never should have been allowed to see." Jason inhaled, allowing the cold truth to seep through to his bones. This was the vampire he was. His hand at the command of his people, for the sake of his people, dealt death. It was his existence and no human would ever be able to understand that.

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

She came awake with such shocking suddenness that her vision blurred briefly. Sam glanced around the darkened room trying to get her bearings. She was in her bed but had absolutely no idea how she got there. A glance down told her that she still wore the grey sweats that she had put on after her shower the night before. She pressed fingertips to her temples, trying to still the dizzy sensation in her head.

What had awakened her?

The clock on her nightstand read six thirty, which would account for the shadows in her studio. Then it actually hit her. "Six-thirty!" And the staccato knocks at her front door clued her in to what had awakened her. "Oh no," she groaned, shoving off the warm comforter to place her feet on the floor. When she stood, her body felt stiff, muscles sore like she had been working out.

The sharp raps rang out again, this time accompanied by a concerned, "Samantha? Are you here? Samantha?"

"Coming," she tried, blinking at the raspy sound of her voice. She cleared her throat and called out again, "I'm coming Zinnia."

Since starting work at _Midnight's Mist_, she had never been late. And certainly she had no cause since she lived right above the shop. She scurried quickly across the hardwood floors, her feet slipping slightly in the thick white socks and scrambled to remove the deadbolt and the chains from the door.

On the other side was her friend and employer, her eyes filled with concern that made her feel horrible. "I'm sorry Zinnia, I overslept." She apologized immediately. "Please come in," she took Zinnia's hand to pull her inside and gestured to the little sofa that sat on a far wall. "Sit down, please. I don't know what happened." She guided the elderly woman to the sofa and helped her to sit.

The little studio wasn't much, decorated with old furniture that Zinnia had allowed her to borrow from her attic. Several paintings of the ocean and the gorgeous landscape of Italy were on the walls. Zinnia noted her appreciation and graciously offered them as well.

Muted tones of sage, cream and rose gave the space a larger airy feel, a perfect balance to the hardwood floors. The sofa sat before a low smoked glass coffee table and placed neatly in the center was a small bowl of colored sea shells. On top of an antique side table was a small lamp. It was paired with two 18th century Sheraton chairs upholstered in a sage and pink rose design fabric. A changing screen sectioned the space in half giving the illusion of privacy for her bedroom. Her kitchen, which rarely saw any use was pure function.

It was the first real home she ever had and she had Zinnia to thank for it.

"Its fine Samantha," Zinnia waved off the apology, "I was simply concerned. It is not like you not to be downstairs when I arrive for the evening. After an hour, I began to wonder so I came up to see if maybe you were ill."

"No," Sam shook her head, still not sure why she had slept so late, "No I'm sorry I worried you. Have you had your tea yet?" She knew how much Zinnia was a stickler for her routines. "I can run down and start-"

"No, child, it's fine. The tea can wait," Zinnia assured her, "Come sit," she waved her to the chair across from her, "You look a little flustered. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know," she frowned as she went to sit down. Everything was so jumbled in her head, partly from the disorienting sensation of waking up so quickly and the other just a vague feeling that something wasn't quite right. Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to focus on something and maybe that would help the rest.

"I never sleep so late." Despite the late hours of the shop, she awakened most days at ten, eleven at the latest. Today she slept through the afternoon until evening and if Zinnia hadn't knocked on her door, she knew that she wouldn't have awakened until much later that's just how deeply she had been asleep.

"Are you certain you're not ill, should I call the doctor?"

"No. I feel fine." Then she flexed a shoulder and winced, "A little sore, but fine."

"Sore?"

"Yes," her voice faded off as some of the events from the night before cleared, "I did a lot of cleaning last night. Organizing my books, scrubbing my bathroom, that kind of stuff." Then a guilty smile tilted the edges of her lips, "I was nervous about tonight."

"Tonight you will end your relationship with Mr. Corinthos, right?"

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "I was worried about how he would take it. So when I finished taking my shower and I was going to bed, but I couldn't sleep. So I decided to read my book that was delivered on Thursday," she glanced at Zinnia then, "You know my new Nora book, _Born In Death_," at her friends nod of remembrance Sam continued, "I wanted ice cream to go with it. So, I went to my freezer to get some and realized I was out." She stopped as she realized the memory went completely blank after that.

"And?" Zinnia prompted.

"And, that's it," she shrugged nervously, "I don't really remember what happened after that. I must have been exhausted and just lay down on the bed." Only that didn't sound like her at all. A little housecleaning shouldn't have her body this sore and shouldn't make her brain feel like she was swimming through some grey impenetrable mist.

Zinnia's face instantly clouded with uneasiness, "Did you leave the apartment?"

"I don't," she paused, biting her lip, "I don't think so. It's weird, because it's like there is nothing there. I remember going into the kitchen to get the ice cream and deciding to go to the store to buy more. After that there's just the feeling that I was tired and wanted to go to sleep." A shadow of alarm touched her face, "But I don't actually remember changing my mind and going to bed."

Zinnia stared at her for the longest moment, so long in fact that Sam felt a bit nervous at the deep introspection, then Zinnia placed a fragile hand over hers and squeezed. "Its fine child, perhaps you were just nervous about your big date tonight and that's why you can't remember."

"I guess," she released a long breath. Except that's not what it felt like at all. Where there should have been something that told her she went to bed, it was just blank. Deciding to think about it later, she stood from the chair, "Let me take a quick shower and change and I'll come down."

"No. Not at all, Samantha, you just rest a bit more. I'll close the shop early tonight. You can spend that time relaxing for your evening." Zinnia told her. When she began to rise, Sam placed a helping hand at her elbow. "It will be good to pamper yourself."

"I'm so sorry Zinnia," she apologized again, feeling horrible about the fact that her friend had come all the way here to the shop only to return home again because she was so concerned about her. "Let me get you a cab back home." It was the least she could do since this was all her fault.

"No dear, I'm fine. I will call one of my familie and they will pick me up. You don't worry, you have more than enough to think of tonight than me." Before Sam could disagree, Zinnia was already moving to the door. "Take a warm bath and have a light dinner. And Samantha?"

"Yes?"

"Do what your heart tells you is best. If you believe that Mr. Corinthos is best for you, then don't listen to the interference of an old woman. However if you decide to end things and you have any problems, you know you can call me if you need me."

"I know," Sam answered truthfully. It wasn't an empty offer, Sam knew that she could call Zinnia if the need arose and Zinnia would be more than willing to offer her assistance in any way. It was a kinship with the older woman that she had never experienced in her life before now, almost as if Zinnia had enfolded her into her family. "I'm just hoping that Sonny won't make a big deal out of it and will just end things."

"He is a very prideful man," Zinnia reminded her, it was the first thing that Sam had noticed about him. Sonny might make a fuss for the simple fact that he didn't like giving up anything he considered his personal possession. "Perhaps you should find a way to convince him that this separation is his idea. A married man would not want his wife aware of his affairs."

"I just don't want him angry and threatening." Sam chose her words carefully. "The last thing I want is for the local mob boss to be furious at me for threatening him."

"No threats," Zinnia answered but there was an edge to her voice. "Become an inconvenience. Demand more from him than he is willing to give and he will certainly want to end the relationship before you get too clingy. An adulterer hates nothing more than a clingy woman who will expect him to put her before his wife and family."

"That sounds like personal experience," Sam commented, and the flare of heat in Zinnia's eyes told her otherwise. Whatever man had been in Zinnia's life, _she_ hadn't been his mistress.

"No man cheats on a Giambelli twice," was all Zinnia would say. That Sam could very easily believe.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

For centuries, the Alcazar House was one that instantly garnered respect. Reverence. The second House of the Aristocracy, these vampires were different from the others. Clannish, wary of outsiders, they trusted only each other. Their wealth was formidable, second only to the First House, the Broussard's. From his grand estate in Buenos Aires, Armando Alcazar ruled his Scion like a Lord of old. His generosity always appreciated and his anger always feared.

So when he and his twin left the Alcazar fortress, their decision had been met with severe scrutiny by the other Houses and their Sire himself. In the beginning, heading to the United States had been Luis' idea. His younger and impulsive kindreden was determined to step from the shadow of their House. Lorenzo went along to keep him safe because trouble always followed one of Luis' ideas.

It was Luis' idea to step into human society. With their wealth and good looks, the assimilation was effortless. Luis and his rakish charm, that neatly trimmed beard and thick crop of raven hair that always seemed a bit unruly to match his careless but expensive attire was the rebel that drew in the women. He with his cold urbanity, his sable hair tapering neatly, a perfect symmetry to his clean-shaven face garnered respect with businessmen and authority alike.

Luis went through women like candy. Feeding as he chose, discarding when he was bored, while he increased their personal wealth and made important connections to ensure their dominance within this world. Eventually Luis became jaded and Lorenzo agreed. It wasn't the same as their old world, the humans were much too willing to bow and scrape to their every whim.

The day their course changed forever was quite unremarkable, especially since they owed their transformation from Aristocrat to criminal to the bubble headed redhead Luis had brought back to their estate in Los Angeles to fuck and drain. After sharing her delectable charms, she had grabbed the remote from the bedside table, drawing down the movie screen then grew annoyingly chipper as she expounded on the thematic attributes of some gangster flick named Scarface.

Bored, Lorenzo had climbed from bed to take a swim, while Luis had watched. The next evening he brought his next big idea to the table and Lorenzo was intrigued. After seventy-five years living as the cream of human society, Luis was suggesting they control the other side. The seedier side. The men and actions that were frowned upon by the very people who kissed their ass each day for their favor.

After four hundred years with eternity stretching before him like an endless dark abyss, Lorenzo agreed.

Their Sire would be appalled and that only made the choice richer, even more pleasurable. To see the man who set store by his House, his name, the very things he and his kindreden had come to loathe, brought down to their level. To break the honor their Sire held in such regard was the rush that drove them. Each crime became a way to mock the Aristocracy.

The rush of living life right on the edge of exposure. The thrill of death and destruction. For centuries their kind lived on the fringe of humanity, content to remain concealed in the shadows. Hiding from the very cows that kept them fed instead of dictating to them as the dominate species they were. Abiding by stupid Laws and controls set to keep their existence a secret.

No more.

"I still cant' believe that we're going to this stupid meeting."

Luis shimmered into form on the couch, dressed indifferently in a navy silk shirt that was tucked in only on one side of his matching trousers. The contentment on his face told Lorenzo that he had recently fed or killed. Most likely both. Luis thought nothing of the humans and though it was frowned upon by their people to kill them for food. It was like poor table manners, easily ignored during the moment.

"No one turns down Gilchrist," Lorenzo allowed a smirk to touch his mouth that his kindreden did not miss.

"What do you have planned?"

"To remove the infamous enforcers of our kind of course." Lorenzo walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of bourbon and one for his kindreden. "The House of Gilchrist is butting their heads into matters that don't concern them."

"The Tribunal probably sent them," Luis looked unworried and very disgusted by the idea. "To rein us in."

"Let them come. They live by their Laws and rules. They will take no action until given sanction by the Tribunal. By that time we will have killed them." Lorenzo felt a muscle clench along his jaw at the threat. "On a lesser note, your plan to abduct and kill Corinthos' mistress as a warning failed. Two Scion reported in that Taggert, Kingston and Prescott didn't wake for duty. They are your Scion, Luis. They're dead and you didn't say a word."

His kindreden lifted a shoulder of indifference, causing Lorenzo to roll his eyes in disgust. "Who cares? I'm not surprised, I didn't exactly chose them for their intelligence."

"Which begs the question of why you selected them in the first place," Lorenzo drained his tumbler and just barely refrained from slamming it back down. He needed an army, a force that would lay waste to the Gilchrist House and assert their supremacy to the rest of their people, not a band of buffoons.

"Muscle. Blind allegiance. It doesn't take a brain to follow orders or die for your Sire." Luis snorted with cold humor, "Just a large enough body to stand in front of the blade."

His twin's penchant for creating Scion was getting out of hand but nothing worth addressing at the moment. In spite of himself, Lorenzo chuckled briefly, and then drew in a short calming breath. "I'm tired of playing games with Corinthos. I want him dead, his territory and assets seized. I want no interference from the human while we deal with Gilchrist."

"You look concerned Lorenzo," Luis quirked in his usual casual, jesting way. "Don't tell me you're worried."

"Worried? No," he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sniffed, "I want to be prepared. No surprises."

"You actually sound like you're contemplating going to war with the other Houses." Luis looked humored for a second before the amusement drained from his face. "You're not joking. Standing up to the Tribunal for our own place is one thing. Taking on Six Houses is insanity. Nefertiti alone will slaughter you to the four winds."

Luis jerked to his feet, and stalked over, his deep voice simmering with just a tinge of fear. "And that's after she's amused herself by peeling the skin from your body and allowing you to roast in the setting sun for daring to challenge her."

"Without Gilchrist, the others are lambs to slaughter," he insisted, he had observed the other Houses' dependency on the enforcers. They had become weak, lazy. He was only taking advantage of the opportunity presented to them before someone else did.

"And what of our Sire," Luis sighed with exasperation, "Have you forgotten what he could do to us for this?"

"Who says Armando will object?"


	6. Chapter Five

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Everything was set for the evening. Despite the bizarre feeling she was forgetting something important that lingered all night, Sam knew that she was prepared for this dinner. The little dining table in her kitchen was set with the few simple dishes she bought after moving in. Candlelight. Romance. Adjusting the collar of her silk robe, she moved one wine glass closer to a plate needlessly even as she contemplated what she was going to wear tonight.

She ordered Sonny's favorite from the No Name, the eggplant parmesan, had even splurged on an expensive bottle of wine. The deliveryman made good time, handing her the bags and accepting the ten dollar tip with a gracious smile.

The salad was dumped from its large plastic container into a large crystal bowl and set in the center of the table, along with thick slices of bread fragrant with garlic. The casserole was in the oven waiting to be served and the nice full-bodied red was breathing on the counter. For dessert, she chose a lemon tart, quick and simple, and she set her coffee maker, with a choice selection of Corinthos Blend Dark Roast, to brew thirty minutes into the meal.

Sonny hated eating out of carry out containers and didn't like that she couldn't cook, but the least she could do before handing the man his hat and ending things was feed him. If he were sated, content, then perhaps he would be less likely to cause a fuss. The meal would also serve another purpose. Hopefully it would make him just a bit uncomfortable.

Zinnia's advice was good, convincing Sonny that it was his idea to end things between them would be better in the end. If she pampered him, laid on a few heavy hints about making things permanent, about how he could have this all the time if he would divorce his wife and marry her, the man would probably forget all about sex and scurry away from her apartment as fast as his feet could carry him.

At least that is what she was hoping. If it had the opposite effect and Sonny thought she was right, well she would be up shit creek then. She bit her lip, running that very possibility through her mind. Glancing around, she realized everything was too perfect. The clock on the wall told her that Sonny would be arriving in less than ten minutes, so there wasn't' much she could do.

"Can't make him think I'm June Cleaver," she muttered, tapping fingers on the tiled counter, "Everything has to be just slightly off."

Kissing her delicious meal goodbye, she turned the oven up higher; knowing in twenty minutes the bottom of the dish would burn and send the scorched taste through the entire meal. Then she grabbed the wine from the counter and stuck it in the refrigerator in the back, knowing it would get too cold.

The restaurant delivered the salad dressing in a small container, so she switched it to a lovely glass decanter, then reached into the cabinet and grabbed her sugar bowl. Into the vinaigrette went one, two, she wrinkled her nose in just a touch of glee and added the third teaspoon of sugar, then shook it vigorously so it would mix.

For the last deciding touch, she reset the timer on her coffeemaker so instead of having a perfect cup to finish off a wonderful meal, it would be bitter from having set on the burner too long.

"Perfect," she told her empty kitchen. There was nothing Sonny hated more than a ruined cup of his coffee. He prided himself on those damned beans. "This way, when I start dropping hints, he'll be just a bit disgusted."

With an amused grin, she walked to her closet and grabbed a pair of black fringe bottom boot cut jeans, knowing Sonny hated her in jeans especially on a date. Then she added a beautiful cowl neck cashmere sweater in teal. She kept her make up light, just as he liked it, adding only a touch of mascara and a smear of cranberry tinted gloss. Then she ruined the entire effect by pulling her hair into a ponytail to hang over her shoulder and adding large gold hoop earrings.

By the time the doorbell rang and the resonating tones of Eric Clapton singing about hurt further on down the road poured from her stereo, she was feeling devious and smug.

Forty-five minutes into dinner and it was all she could do not to burst into laughter at the many disgusted looks Sonny tried so hard to conceal for most of the evening. She couldn't decide which was the best. The look of horror when she pulled the bottle of wine from her refrigerator and poured some in a glass only to note small slivers of ice had formed. Or maybe it was the one of disgust as he bit into the forkful of romaine and arugula that he had liberally applied dressing to.

No, the winner was definitely the appalled dismay when he glimpsed the ruined eggplant parmesan.

Sonny picked gingerly at the entire meal, indulging heavily on the bread she hadn't touched. All along, she kept a running commentary on how much she wanted this meal to mean, how hard she worked to make things beautiful for him. Ordering his favorite wine, his favorite meal, even his favorite coffee. When she said coffee, the brief fear in his eyes had been priceless.

"So," Sam licked the fork she was using to eat her lemon tart, noting the grimace at her poor table manners. "Did you enjoy dinner?"

"It was fine," he wiped his mouth with the linen napkin then placed it back into his lap. He was so handsome in his dark suit and crimson tie, very confident and arresting. Before Sonny would have captivated her, he was attractive and unscrupulous enough to enjoy a woman's interest. Even as she had made the decision to end things, the appeal was always there. She was always drawn to his dark good looks. Now, strangely, he left her a little cold. Detached. "You shouldn't have gone through so much trouble Sam."

"It was nothing really," she smiled, "All I did was call the restaurant and order all your favorites." She forced herself to reach across the table, placing her hand tenderly on top of his, "I just wanted to make tonight special for us."

"Special?"

"Yes," she smiled sweetly, allowing her fingers to caress sensuously against his skin. "It's our anniversary of the first night we had dinner here at my apartment." She didn't blink twice at the lie.

"Anniversary," he frowned, and Sam could practically hear the gears turning in his feeble little brain.

"Um, hmm." She agreed quickly then rose from her seat to plant herself neatly into his lap. "I told you I was a hopeless romantic right?" It was a good bet that he barely listened to anything she ever said and judging from the way his eyes shifted away from her face, even if she had said something so ridiculous he wouldn't remember it. All she was to him was sex on the side, something he could get from any woman.

"Yeah, I remember," he wrapped his arms around her waist, nudging her with the visible evidence of his arousal. Leaning forward he nuzzled the skin just under her jaw and ordinarily that would have been a turn on, but now as she listened to him lie to her she was mildly disgusted. He mistook her shiver for passion and not the distaste it truly was.

"Well, I want to celebrate all of our anniversaries," she threaded her fingers into his hair. Had it always been this oily? "Our first date, our first kiss," she counted off as he trailed kisses along the length of her throat, "Our first time making love. The first time I told you how much I love you. The first time you told me."

He stiffened a bit there, but continued on his determined path toward her breasts. So she went on as well, "Our first apartment together, our first wedding anniversary."

That definitely got his attention.

"Wedding anniversary?"

"Yes," she planted a hard kiss on his mouth, ignoring his complete lack of response, "I know you said that you couldn't divorce Carly, but surely you see how wonderful we are together." She straddled his waist, squeezing with her hips and making him groan. "You and me. We're so wonderful in bed together," she nibbled at his lower lip. "You'll come home from work all tired and I'll be waiting for you with dinner, your favorite from the No Name just like tonight."

"Sam," he murmured, against her insistent kisses, "Wait."

"Then we'll go upstairs and make love all night long," she ground against his erection, making him moan in the back of his throat. "It will be perfect. And Michael and Delia can come over to play with our four kids. We'll spend holidays together and have family dinners, just like I always dreamed about when I was growing up. You remember me telling you about that, don't' you Sonny?"

"Yeah, I guess," he stammered, caught between pleasure at the torment she was inflicting on him and dread at the words she was speaking. "Look Sam, I don't want you to,"

"I won't worry Sonny," she sat back and assured him, "I know you'll give Carly a good divorce settlement, you're a good man. Our falling in love was never meant to hurt her."

"Falling in love," his voice raised, echoing through the studio over the music in the background, "I never said that."

"You didn't have to say the words," she smiled nudging him a bit with her hand, "I could see it in your eyes. That is why you wanted to come over tonight right? To tell me that it was time to take our relationship to the next obvious level."

"Next level?"

"The way I figure, I could move into the little gatekeeper's cottage at your compound for now, until the transition for your children is easier."

"Transition?"

"You know, from the divorce proceedings? We'll spend the nights together, making love," she leaned forward to brush a tender kiss to his gaping mouth, "I'll make you coffee in the morning before you leave. It will be just perfect, you'll see."

At the word coffee, Sonny had stiffened and gripped her hips. Before she could place another kiss on his mouth, he had practically shoved her off his lap and jerked out of his chair. He stared at her for the longest time, then grunted in frustration and walked to the stereo to shut the music off.

Sam had heard about deafening silence, but never actually witnessed the phenomenon before until now. Sonny looked sexily rumpled; the tent of his pants evidence of his arousal, but the confusion on his face was all she needed to see to know that her words had struck deep. If this wasn't a pretense and she was in love with Sonny, his actions now would have hurt terribly.

"Sam, that isn't part of our arrangement." He began after a moment of staring at her, "I never said I was going to leave Carly."

"I don't understand," she hesitated, blinking with bafflement, and then stepped forward only to be stopped short when Sonny took four quick ones backward. "I know you said that you couldn't divorce Carly yet, but I just assumed that when you told me you love me, you were going to eventually."

"I never said that," he shot back nervously and she brought out the big guns then.

Biting down hard on the inside of her lower lip an old trick from her con days and tears glittered in her eyes. Abandoned kittens. When Spike sacrificed himself and knew Buffy lied when she told him she loved him. The part in Van Helsing when Kate Beckinsale died and Hugh Jackman in werewolf form howled as he turned human again. She thought of every sad thing that ever made her cry so that when she whispered, "You don't love me?" her voice was a whisper of bleak wretchedness.

Guilt flared in his dark eyes and he moved to take her into his arms but she noticed he didn't deny it. "Don't' cry Sam," this embrace was markedly unsexual as he patted her back awkwardly as though she were a small child instead of the woman he had been intent on seducing moments before. "I'm sorry if I unknowingly led you on."

"No," she yanked from his arms, looking up at in with anguish, "You love me, I know you do. I don't understand why you wont' leave Carly when I know you love me."

"Sam, it isn't that simple," he started.

"It is that simple," she shouted breathless switching from despair to hostility in a blink, "If Carly knew about us."

And before she could continue that thought, he shut down, his face clouded with anger. When Sonny spoke, his voice was cold and deadly, "You'll leave Carly out of this."

"So you love her more than me," she sniffed, scrubbing the tears from her eyes and forgetting for the moment that this was a farce. The best con was always the con that had a sliver of truth. "I was nothing to you but someone to fuck around with behind her back."

"You knew that rules going into this relationship Sam, don't try to pretend like you didn't. That little charade you put on about not knowing I was married was somewhat cute in the beginning, but you and I both know that's all it was. A charade."

The fact that he could accuse of her something so selfish and self-serving sparked true anger. "A charade," she spat with mounting contempt, "That's what you really think?"

"Look," he took a deep breath regrouping at her fury, holding up his hands in surrender. "Lets not say things here that we will regret. I had no idea that you were expecting more from me than I was prepared to give you," he said with detached inevitability. And his sincerity rang true. She hadn't expected anything from him but he didn't need to know that. "I think maybe we should take some time apart. A few weeks away from each other before things get too heavy."

Part of her wanted to jump for joy but knew she couldn't. If she wanted this façade to work, she had to pretend to be devastated, "No Sonny," her eyes widened with panic as she gripped his arms tightly, "No, I'm sorry, you're right. I'll do whatever you want. I just don't want to lose you."

"And I don't' want to hurt you Sam," he smiled gently. If he wasn't such a prick she might have fell for those dimples. Couldn't believe how many times she had fallen for those dimples before. "A little time apart will give us a chance to take a clear look at things. Get a new perspective. Maybe in a month or so, we can have dinner again and see how things go from there."

"A month," she sniffed, "I'm supposed to wait an entire month for you to decide you want me again."

"No," his curt voice lashed at her, "I'm not asking you to wait but I wont' be threatened."

"Fine. Have it your way Sonny. I'll keep my mouth shut about us because you don't' love me and I deserve better than a man who will lead me on," she pulled away, wrapping her arms around torso in self comfort, "I think you should go now."

He didn't argue, gratefully. Instead, he gathered up his things, slipping into his black wool coat to leave. She stiffened appropriately when he pressed a kiss to her temple and released a sigh of relief after the door closed behind him and she heard his fading steps and the final thump of the rear security door closing behind him.

The mess she created sat mocking her, so she quickly shoved the remains of the ruined meal in the garbage and stuffed the china in the dishwasher. She poured the wine down the drain, cleaned off all of the counters and released a deep huff at the stir of restlessness that wouldn't go away.

She was happy things were over with Sonny. Now she could take Zinnia's advice and live her life the way she wanted. She would make friends, go out and have a real social life, not trapped here in her apartment with a married man in an affair doomed to go nowhere. There were things she wanted out of life. Family, children, someone to love her, that much hadn't been an act. Now she had an opportunity to find those things.

The empty apartment left her feeling drained and slightly numb. Tomorrow, she promised. Tomorrow she would begin to live. Tonight she would nurse her wounds with pie and a movie marathon.

Sam grabbed a fork, the rest of the lemon tart and walked over to her entertainment system, slipping the DVD of _Dracula_ in. She glanced at her collection noting how many vampire movies she had, including the entire series of _Buffy_ and _Angel _and showed no remorse for her fascination with vampires. Of them all, _Dracula _was her favorite. She flipped to the scene that was the best part.

_"I have crossed oceans of time to find you."_

Gary Oldman seduced Winona Rider on screen as she took another bite of tart and curled snugly under her comforter. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine hands caressing the side of her face so gently, making her body ache with longing, her heart thump in her chest. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell that sensuous virility. A feeling of hope replacing despair.

Frowning at the turn of her thoughts, she concentrated on the screen as Mina stared into Dracula's blue eyes. Blue like the sky and encircled with perfect golden rings that seemed to look right into her soul.

"Blue?" she muttered confused. "His eyes aren't blue." She shook her head, returning to the movie.

She loved this movie: the doomed lovers, the haunting music, its erotic darkness that seduced the viewer. If Coppola intended for her to side with the cuckolded husband he sure as hell failed there in her opinion.

"Keanu is a hottie, but I would have taken Dracula any day of the week and twice on Saturdays."


	7. Chapter Six

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Witching hour.

The night was clear, air so crisp and cold that a deep breath could tinge the lungs with a bite of frost. In the sky, the moon was a melancholy glow, accompanied by the occasional wink of a distant star. Granite speared up from the ground, an occasional cross cast into the identifying markers, a harbinger for these final resting places. Six Warriors, their booted heels crunching into the stiff pristine unmarred snow as they stalked across the land. Six dressed in all black and could at the slightest moment fade into the shadows.

"I hate graveyards."

Jason smirked inwardly at his kindreden's growling complaint but his expression maintained its solemn severity. Law's observation was more than his personal complaint against the dead. Gilchrist had found Law in a graveyard more than five hundred years ago but the night had been balmy and warm. Law kneeled in the dirt over a freshly covered grave, his countenance stricken with grief as he gestured around him at his loss. His family lost at the hands of death, he was a solider without an army. A warrior without a general, a man alone.

The soft rustle of leather told him that Law was adjusting some weapon he carried and the grunt of approval meant he was satisfied with whatever he had found. Law was born in Granada of southern Iberia. He had fought against the armies of Spain, found himself one of few who survived only to return home and find the devastation of war had taken everything he loved from him. When Gilchrist offered him the Mist, he had accepted graciously. The service of an honorable House was all he ever allowed himself.

Jason had seen him with women, but never the same twice. The only people Law let close were the House of Gilchrist. And Law was never without a weapon. Never.

"Then we should certainly hurry this tribunal along," Duncan snorted. "We wouldn't want to offend Law's delicate sensibilities."

The sarcasm was welcome and Jason knew Law wouldn't take offense. Duncan walked into the Mist eight hundred years ago, a kind Scottish Laird who had lost his wife and son to illness and was born a vampire capable of striking terror in the hearts of any who dared face him. Probably had something to do with that Berserker blood running through his veins. These days, instead of painting his face with blue paint before going into battle, Duncan had tattooed most of his chest with the history of the Gilchrist House and the Maitland clan.

They were capable of adjusting their body temperatures, which accounted for Duncan's leather breeches, boots and long leather duster open to the breeze to reveal his chest. Despite the centuries, the only thing that had changed about Duncan's hunting gear was the length of his coat.

In the beginning, he didn't wear one. He hadn't cared about human notice.

In his pale grey eyes was the same focus present in them all.

"We all know this is a waste of time," Justyce muttered at his side.

She too was dressed to hunt, all sleek black leather, a sword strapped to her back and a pair of 9mm's. She preferred the sword, but as they all knew, a bullet could slow down an adversary and provide an opening. Especially one tipped with atropine, it was a weakness for their kind that hindered the healing process. "The Alcazar Scion will never agree to the terms. They're Aristocrats. To coin a human phrase, they think their _'shit don't stink'_."

A glimmer of a smile quirked Gilchrist's mouth. "Such disrespect Justyce," he reprimanded mildly. "We must follow the traditions of our people, even if the Alcazars have forgotten the face of their Sire. Our Laws clearly demand a tribunal on holy ground to give the offenders the opportunity to correct their actions. In this case, the kindreden must return to Buenos Aires or face death."

"Death would be preferable," Law answered. "I've seen what they've been up to here in this little city. The drugs they have brought in, the innocents who have been killed."

Jason was forcibly reminded of the woman he rescued. The image of her struggling against three of Alcazar's Scion touched his mind's eye briefly, causing a deep snarl to rumble in his chest. Justyce tipped her head in his direction, her soft brown eyes meeting his with question but she said nothing.

"It is not our place to interfere in the lives of Humans unless it poses a direct threat to our people," Gilchrist reminded them, and he felt the quiet strength of that rebuke. His Sire had not been happy about his actions but did not reprimand him for not following orders. Instead, he had quietly admitted that he would have found it difficult to walk away himself. It was a complication, that might have consequences, but it was understandable.

"Luis and Lorenzo are walking a dangerous line. If Armando cares not for the dishonoring of his House, that is not our place to judge. The kindreden however are too close to exposure." Gilchrist's voice was hard with the power and threat that made him the most feared of their kind. The Alcazars would find no pity here tonight. If this tribunal were simply a technicality, the moment they left Holy Ground, blood would be spilled. "A mob war with humans is intolerable and a direct infraction against our laws. One of many crimes these kindreden have committed. They will see reason, or they will return to the Mist."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"its cold, it's wet and I had plans. So why are we wasting out time out here tonight with a bunch of antiquated nobodies stuck in the past, when me and Sage could be out hunting down that 69 Camerro that one of our clients wanted."

Lorenzo Alcazar looked over at his hot-tempered Scion and took a deep calming breath. If he didn't know better he would swear that Diego was Luis' progeny not his. There were days when he felt he had done his Scion a disservice by not instilling him with the knowledge and traditions of their people as Armando had done for him and his twin. Not merely his Scion but his Heres, Diego was too entrenched in the modern to truly understand what the passage of time meant to their kind.

The cars that he enjoyed stealing, the money and power, this organization, it was all temporary. A mere glimmer in the reality of their existence. Blink and it would be century later and all of this, territory, product, all of it would be unimportant. Yet he couldn't expect a fledgling to understand that. A mere one hundred and twenty nine years old, Lorenzo shook his head ruefully. So much still to learn. Perhaps when this was all settled, he would teach his Heres.

"If this were Corinthos, Uncle Lo wouldn't even bother," Sage pointed out as she tightened the white mink around her neck. Also, a fledgling at one hundred years, Sage enjoyed the trappings of money and power almost as much as Luis did. She was a perfect female counter to her Sire, and Luis doted on her. "I don't see what's so special about them anyway. We should just kill them and get it over with."

"And why could we only bring six people," Diego pointed out, "And why are we here in the fucking cemetery in the snow?"

The two guards looked like they wanted to agree but show a flicker of intelligence and kept their mouths shut. "Yeah, Lorenzo, why don't you explain why we're out here instead of out having fun," Luis chuckled, and waved off the responsibility to him.

Asshole.

"The tribunal is a long custom of our people," he began and though he wasn't looking at their faces, he could sense Luis, Diego and Sage rolling their eyes. "A Tribunal is initially held among the Elder Houses who are responsible for protecting the rights and interests of our people."

"They're cops," Diego snorted.

"Not exactly," Lorenzo corrected, "It consists of the three Houses of Aristocracy, the House of Magicks and of Healing and the House of Warriors."

"So these old farts sit around telling all of us what we can and cannot do," Diego huffed, "And we regular vamps have to obey or what, they come and kill us?"

"Exactly," Luis answered before Lorenzo could clarify.

"That is a simplistic way of looking at it," Lorenzo glared at his brother. "Our Laws are few, and most revolve around keeping our existence a secret from the humans."

"Because we all know what would happen if they found out vampires really did exist," Sage laughed, "I've seen those episodes of X-Files. Muffy the Vampire Layer."

"So what," Diego shot back, "I'm not worried about the cows, or about this stupid tribunal. Let them try something."

"There is a reason why the House of Gilchrist are Warriors," Luis spoke again, but this time his voice held a tinge of respect, "They are not to be underestimated Diego and they are the Enforcers of our kind for a reason." Luis might be carefree and just a little foolish but stupid he wasn't. His kindreden still wasn't completely on board with his plans to take out the six Elder Houses. "Tonight we meet to decide if we concede to the Tribunal's demands or face termination."

Sage at least had the grace to look afraid. Diego on the other hand looked like he was ready for a fight. Lorenzo resisted the urge to slap the fledgling in the back of the head. Save him from the stupidity of youth. "We will most likely be told to return to Buenos Aires and stop our activities."

"They don't have the right," Diego began but Luis held up a halting finger.

"Actually they do," he pointed out. "This isn't a game Diego. You and Sage must look out for each other. And from tonight forward, you are not to go out alone. Together at all times and accompanied by two guards do you understand me." It was the first dominant roll Luis had ever taken. It was disquieting to hear his voice coming from his twin.

Diego looked like he wanted to argue but Sage immediately agreed, "Yes Papa. We understand."

By the time they reached the clearing where the six from the House of Gilchrist awaited, Lorenzo was more than ready for this confrontation to begin. He felt Luis stiffen beside him then murmur, "The two Morgans have been Reawakened. Why didn't you tell me?"

Until this evening, it had been only a rumor. One of his moles that remained at the compound in Buenos Aires finally contacted him to confirm that Armando had indeed been to Spain for the Reawakening. Jason and Justyce Morgan's prowess was renowned through the clans. Gilchrist was feared and with good reason and the Morgans were following his footsteps. Though Gilchrist had taken a mate and had a babe, Jason was his Heres, the rest of the Morgans and extension of the Gilchrist familie. Luis was correct, the House of Gilchrist was powerful but none were without weakness.

"It is a small set back."

"Set back my ass," Luis growled, his words quiet but held an undertone of cold contempt. "Six Warriors Lorenzo. All six. This is insanity."

"Quiet!" His curt voice lashed out and he could sense Diego and Sage's alarm.

"This is not worth," Luis began but stopped when their eyes met. Lorenzo felt him bristle with rage but he said nothing more. For centuries, their roles were clearly defined. Lorenzo led them, made the important decisions. Now was not the time for that to change. "I hope you don't come to regret this kindreden."

Jason looked at the Alcazars, wondering what the vampires could have been thinking. Two guards and two fledglings at a Tribunal. It was an insult. Almost as bad as ignoring the customary greetings. These Scion were facing the Head of a House and didn't offer the respect that Gilchrist had more than earned. The insolent male fledgling stood at Lorenzo Alcazar's side, his arms folded belligerently across his chest. The flare of anger in his eyes revealed his contempt for these proceedings.

Jason wondered if he believed those two Glocks under his wool coat were adequate protection against any one Warrior. Bailey could exterminate this fledgling without even exerting herself. His systir was left behind with Keeley and Sasha to maintain her cover to infiltrate the two younger Alcazar's dealings and though she understood, he could see her impatience.

There was something more going on here. He could sense it. Lorenzo was too arrogant, too placating. Luis seemed fidgety, nervous and unless Jason was mistaken angry with his twin.

"I think we all know why we're here tonight," Gilchrist began, and though his expression was free from emotion his whole demeanor was growing in severity. His kindreden were responding in kind and Justyce ran an occasional finger over the handle of her katana. No one would break the sanctity of Sacred Ground but the instant they left was a different story.

"You bring judgment from the Elders," Lorenzo nodded in agreement.

"It has been determined that your activities are a threat to our people. You are ordered to return to your Sire and desist immediately."

The Alcazar's reactions were very telling. The fledglings were alternately afraid and livid. The guards were worried. But it was the kindreden who were interesting. It wasn't like this was unexpected. The House of Gilchrist was only called for two reasons. "And if we don't. Desist immediately and return?" Lorenzo questioned.

"Then we, the Warriors of the House of Gilchrist, will carry out a death sentence for Luis and Lorenzo Alcazar and all of your Scion."

The young girl gasped at the blunt pronouncement, then stiffened, momentarily abashed by her reaction. The fledglings probably had no idea what their Sire's had drawn them into. If she left and went to Armando, she might be able to escape judgment, but it was unlikely that she would be accepted back into the Alcazar House after betraying and abandoning her Sire. It seemed the twins were united and their Scion would be swept into the Mist with them.

"Is that what the Tribunal wants? Don't' we risk more exposure drawing humans into our matters with Death sentences and Warriors. Aren't there better ways of dealing with this," Lorenzo offered. "You must know that we won't surrender everything we have fought for and slink back to our Sire like fledglings."

"It matters not what you will surrender," Gilchrist explained. "If you have not returned to the Alcazar holdings by midnight tomorrow, we will dismantle everything you have and in two weeks you will return to the Mist. It is your choice. And that will conclude this Tribunal." Gilchrist turned and began walking away, accompanied by the others but the youngling seemed to have reached the limit of his patience.

"We're not going to back down because of some stupid order," he shouted moving forward aggressively, but Lorenzo placed an arm on his chest to hold him back. "You think we're afraid of you? You'll be wishing you never came to Port Charles. The House of Alcazar doesn't back down because of some threats made by an old man trapped in the past."

Justyce giggled, light and feminine it rang out in the night. Together they paused and turned to look back in time to see Diego push past Lorenzo and draw his gun. "You think I'm funny, puta?"

The rules of Holy Ground were simple. No weapons could ever be drawn. Justyce flicked a glance at him and Jason nodded slightly. Lorenzo looked horrified at his Scion's actions, but before Luis could grab the back of Diego's coat and restrain him, Justyce was there. Faster than a mere fledgling's eye could ever trace. Diego floundered miserably, looking to his Sire for support and finding none. They were not so corrupt as to defy rules that would benefit them as well. It was a shame they had not taught this fledgling the same. Justyce pressed tight against the barrel of the Sig-Sauer her expression as cold as the night.

"It's a shame really," she whispered pityingly, leaning forward so they were nose to nose. "The Alcazar House was always so honorable. Armando must be humiliated at this disgrace. You think you have nothing to fear from a death sentence?" She spared both Alcazars a cold looks, then shimmered into Mist and reformed at Jason's side. As one, they began walking to rejoin the others but Justyce gave them final parting words over her shoulder.

"Ask your Sire about the Vladimirs fledgling, then be afraid. Be very afraid."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

He shouldn't be here.

Watching her. She looked so beautiful laying across her bed. Her dark hair was a silken mass on the pillow beneath her. Exquisite. Innocent. Cocooned in a blanket of warmth. Ignorant of their kind. Safe.

He should be patrolling the land as his Sire had entrusted him. Tonight's Tribunal was merely the beginning. Death would come soon. The Alcazars would not wait patiently for their sentence. What the Warriors of Gilchrist would rend upon the kindreden would make their petty mob war look like a Solstice Festival.

He should not be standing here on her fire escape wondering if her skin was as soft as he remembered. The memory of her scent had beckoned him here and he had deceived himself by thinking he was merely checking on her. Reassuring himself of her safety. Now that he was here, he knew the truth. He had needed to see her. Needed her.

The room was dark but for a television flickering shadows on the walls. _"Samantha."_ She shifted on the bed, disturbed from her peaceful slumber by the mental nudge he sent forth.

This should not be happening, but he was vulnerable and at his weakest. At the mercy of the inner beast that hungered for her. He had yet to feed and all he could remember was the seductive spice of her skin on his tongue as he had healed her. The racing flutter of her heartbeat echoed in his ears. Blood calling to him, demanding he drink and drink deep. Fangs elongated in his mouth, the Knowing burning in his eyes, a shudder of arousal quaking through his body. _"Samantha."_

His heart lurched once as she sat up, her luminous eyes glazed and uncertain as to exactly what had awakened her. Pushing the covers off, she padded barefoot across the room to the window where he stood. She pushed back the curtain to gaze out, a delicate hand pushing a thick band of hair behind her ear. Unseeing. Vulnerable.

All he had to do was push a bit harder and she would open the window.

Push a bit harder and he could have her in his embrace. Her blood coursing through him, her body shuddering beneath him.

Before he did something he would regret, Jason shimmered into Mist.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Seven **

The last thing she wanted was for Sonny to catch her eavesdropping on a private conversation between him and Ric, especially when they were obviously discussing business. Carly could hear the man now, all but ordering her from the room of her own house as if she were Michael, their ten-year-old son and not his wife. She hated the little compartments Sonny placed women into. Madonna or whore. And certainly not involved in the business. Moreover, she knew which category she didn't fit into. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered.

She certainly hadn't come downstairs with the intention of listening in on Sonny. Things were tense with this mob war with the Alcazars and the different hits his business had taken so she was trying to be the understanding wife and give him a break. She hadn't caused a fight in weeks, nor had she brought up his cheating, though she had reason to believe something had changed there recently. He came home Saturday night early and with an attitude when she knew that he had gone to see that McCall skank.

In fact, Sonny was the furthest thing from her mind. She had been on her way out for the evening now that the kids were in bed and Leticia was keeping an eye on them. The slinky little drop waist dress in a chic cocoa and suede slouch boots was perfect for plans. She had a man to find.

Jason Morgan.

Mama introduced her to Keeley Marcello at her dinner party and at first, Carly had been concerned that the man she had her eye on was involved with the exotic attorney. There was a familiarity between them that spoke of a long time acquaintance but Jason had treated Keeley like family and not a woman he was sleeping with.

They were new to Port Charles, recently in from Spain of all places, but uncertain about the duration of their visit. Absolutely perfect. A short-term affair with the man who was the epitome of sex was exactly what she needed to take the sting off Sonny's latest affair. She tried drawing Jason into conversation about himself but he had been remarkably tight lipped despite her best efforts.

She asked about Spain and he gave her the bare minimum. She asked why he was in Port Charles after leaving what had to be a marvelous country and he gave her a vague business response that she equated with something Sonny always said. She knew he was in the business, muscle didn't' make a show of force like he and his people did that night in the Metro Court unless they were in the organization.

She just wondered if he were working with Alcazar. If so, Sonny had more trouble than he bargained for. She knew the Alcazars were dangerous from the few glimpses she had of the around the city but Jason Morgan was a new beast altogether.

She could have hit the usual spots in the city to begin her search but had a feeling that Jake's was more Jason Morgan's speed. If all played out the way she anticipated, tonight they would be making use of one of those rooms that were rented out above the bar.

"So you're telling me that someone took out all twelve of the Alcazars shipping lines," the incredulity in Sonny's voice caught her attention and pulled her from the lusty thoughts of sex. He stood from his seat on the couch and walked to the bar, pouring himself a glass of water and drained it down quickly which told her that he was nervous. Before being diagnosed with his bipolar disorder, Sonny would down scotch like that when he worried about business. "All twelve, simultaneously?"

"Yeah. I don't know how they managed it. Whoever is responsible took a large portion of Alcazar product with them in that little coup." Ric set down his papers and leaned back to watch his brother with shifty eyes.

Ric was always anticipating the angles, always looking for an in that would further his own personal agenda. Since their precious bonding moment during Sonny's breakdown, the two brothers had been inseparable. Ric was no longer just Sonny's lawyer. He was his right hand. He was family. After all the time of being held at a distance, Ric finally achieved the impossible. Sonny's favor. Carly tried to warn Sonny that Ric wasn't to be trusted, but Sonny believed in the little sociopath no matter what she said.

"And you're certain it wasn't any of our people?" Sonny actually sounded hopeful, but even she could have told him that no one Sonny employed was capable of hitting the Alcazars that hard and in one night.

"No, it wasn't one of ours," Ric answered and Carly rolled her eyes in disgust. Ours. As if Ric had anything to do with what Sonny had built, instead of coming in Monday morning quarterbacking. "My contact with the PCPD told me that two of Alcazars ships were sunk just before reaching US waters two days ago as well. Whoever is behind this attack, is thorough Sonny. We need to find out."

"Stan said that one of his people heard new muscle arrived in the city the other night. He's thought it was some of Alcazars people. If it's they're new, then he needs to know." Sonny looked more shaken than he probably intended to reveal. This in turn caused a flicker of apprehension to tighten in her stomach. In all the years of their marriage, she had been confident of Sonny's ability to protect himself and their family. These doubts were disturbing. She had two children to think of, and her husband worried was enough to chill her blood.

Sonny's organization had weakened over the years. First losing Stone to AIDS, then Zander in that gunfight with the police, Sonny hadn't had a real enforcer in years and it was left to Milo and Max. The two brothers were good guards but enforcing Sonny's territory and instilling fear in Sonny's enemies, they could never do. Placing Ric, an Ivy League attorney, as his right hand was just one more mistake in a long line of mistakes that just might one day be the end of Sonny's hold on Port Charles.

The Alcazars were already a threat, but from what Carly could hear, there was a menace more dangerous that would probably mow both organizations down before this was all over. Carly allowed a small smile of pleasure to touch her lips. If she were correct, Jason Morgan was apart of that organization.

Nothing like sleeping with the enemy to protect her best interests.

Deciding to announce her presence, she clomped loudly down the stairs from her hiding place, "Sonny, I'm going out." By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, whatever the two brothers had been discussing was pushed away.

Always hiding things from her, she silently seethed. She supposed she could have shared her thoughts about who she believed to be responsible for hitting Sonny's enemy. Only she would get the whole spying lecture, and neither man would believe her anyway. Far be it for the little wife to have figured out the threat before the big strong husband did. Or worse be told not to concoct any of her crazy plans.

Hmm, little did Sonny realize one of her "crazy plans" had landed her in his bed and gotten her a ring on her finger. And before that, she divorced AJ, the Quartermaine heir, taking fifteen percent of the ELQ, family company, as part of her settlement. Then she proceeded to sell it to Jasper Jacks, the corporate raider, for a tidy profit. So maybe, just maybe, her _plans_ weren't so crazy after all.

"Out?" Sonny frowned, and stalked over to her, "Tonight? No, it's better if you stay home for a while until things are settled."

Like hell she would. "Sonny, I'm just going to Mama's." She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled innocently, "I know that it's dangerous now, I promise I won't do anything stupid."

"That's kind of an oxymoron isn't it Carly," Ric shot back from his spot on the other side of the room.

"Cute," she wrinkled her nose, preferring to avoid this battle. "No I think the only moron in this room is you." It was a weak comeback but Sonny would have been suspicious if she had let Ric's insult go without responding. "Now, Leticia is keeping an eye on Michael and Delia, and knows to put them to bed at nine. I'm just going to see if Mama needs any help with the hospital fundraiser. You remember right? The bachelor's auction she has planned to raise funds for the new neonatal wing?"

Carly lifted an eyebrow, a wicked gleam flickering in her blue eyes, "I would ask if you wanted to participate Ric, but we don't need nickels and dimes for contributions. That fifteen cents you would bring in, well, I think Michael could cover that with his allowance."

Ric stepped forward to retaliate, but Sonny held him off, "Fine Carly, go. Make sure you take Max with you."

She leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth, "Of course, I'll see you later tonight." She winked and left happily, knowing it would be simple to lose Max once she arrived at her mother's brownstone. Thirty minutes with Mama and she could leave out the back door and head over to Jake's where hopefully she would find her boy on the side.

**  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sam pulled open the heavy metal door of the bar and was greeted with the familiar aroma of sweat, cheap alcohol and stale grease. The rowdy sounds of people out for this Wednesday night mixed with the plaintive feminine wail and heavy guitar rifts of Evanescence. It brought memories of other seedy bars she had entered in her life and none were nostalgic.

Coming here tonight was probably a mistake. This was a path in her life that she was trying to change. Drinking, dating the wrong kind of man, coming to bars. Only she had seen the young man and what looked like his sister on the docks as she was making her way back to her studio and they had been talking about going to Jake's for the night.

Guy in a leather jacket, girl in a mink, obviously from money, probably mid twenties, and this Jake's they spoke of hadn't sounded like a bad way to spend the rest of her evening. A beer, a little music, Sam figured the worst that would happen was that she would be the oldest woman there.

How was she to know her two yuppies would be slumming it tonight?

Rather than turn around and face another night alone in her silent apartment she continued forward. Just like she expected, the place was crowded, but it wasn't so bad. These looked like ordinary people out for the night, a few dockworkers, and some people from the hospital. She even spotted the little blonde waitress Maxie, who worked in Kelly's, at a table in the corner with that police detective Lucky Spencer sharing a drink and a meal.

A blonde was running a game of pool, hustling the group of men pretty well, judging from their grunts of disgust. A flick of hair over her shoulder revealed the infamous Carly Corinthos and Sam quickly turned away wanting to avoid the confrontation she could all but smell brewing. If she had sense, she would leave but pride had her taking the free stool at the bar that was closest to the door.

She was here, she would have a beer and then leave. At least then, it wouldn't feel like Carly was running her out of the place. The bartender, a scruffy bearded man who looked like a bad reject from the seventies, took smiled down at her. Yeah, he even had the prerequisite printed shirt with wide collar and funky pants. No, scratch that. He looked like a bad reject from a seventies porn movie. She could almost hear the tacky music twanging as he walked from his end of the bar to her and leaned down in her face.

"Hey sugar," he licked his lips and wiggled a knowing brow, which caused her to bite her lip to hold back the snicker of laughter. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"And what gave me away?" she smirked. When he reached out to run a finger along the side of her face, she jerked her head back. "You wanna lose that digit?"

"Hey, sugar," he raised both hands in all mock innocence. "I'm just being friendly. Name's Coleman, I own this place," he said as if that was supposed to impress her.

"Well Coleman," she smiled seductively and leaned forward. His eyes flickered briefly to her open coat, where the red deep v-neck sweater stretched over her breasts. "_Sugar_," she pointed out, making him look up again. When she ran her tongue over her lips, his eyes followed the movement. "That means you'll be perfectly capable of bringing me a Dos Equis, unopened, with a shot of silver Patron on the side."

Instead of being offended, he chuckled and reached under the bar, "You're cute, Sugar. I like that in a woman." He set the shot in front of her first, then her chaser for which she was grateful. Coleman might be a bit of an idiot but he seemed harmless. "What brings you to Jake's tonight?"

Sam lifted a shoulder, "Bored." Lonely, she amended. Strange dreams of some mystery figure with blue eyes haunting her. Her fascination with vampires aside, it was completely different to feel as if she were constantly being watched. Or worse going insane. For four nights in a row, she had been awakened from a deep sleep, almost as if she were drawn awake by some compulsion.

The pull would take her to her window but all she would find was the cold night and a sense of loss that she couldn't understand. Breaking up with Sonny couldn't be the cause of that terrible emptiness. Nothing she had ever felt for the man hinted at these emotions.

Shoving the troubling thoughts aside, she nodded over her shoulder to the pool table, "How long she been here?"

Coleman looked discreetly over at Carly, then back at her, "About ninety minutes. You familiar with Mrs. Corinthos?"

"Not in the way you might think," she snorted, then dragged a twenty from her purse, "Let me know when she looks like she's done."

He accepted the bill, tucking it neatly in his pants pocket, "Sure thing sugar. Can I get you anything else?"

"Is there anything in the kitchen that wouldn't give me food poisoning?"

He laughed again, rich and loud, "I'll see what I can do. You like buffalo wings?"

"That'll do me," she nodded and took a long draw from her bottle, "Add some cheese fries with that and you might just have yourself a new best friend."

"I could always use a new best friend," and the sexual innuendo was blatant.

"Not even if I was blink drunk on absinthe and we were going to die a fiery death," she shot back, making him roar with laughter.

The first Evanescence song turned into another and Sam drew in a deep breath. Someone was in a fucked up mood tonight, she grunted with derision, glancing around the bar discreetly. Nodding her head to the music, she closed her eyes for a second letting it surround her, fill her. The light tap on her shoulder, opened her eyes to a cocky smirk.

"You look like a woman who wants to dance."

He wasn't bad to look at. Tall, lanky, dark eyes and a grin that promised mischief. He wasn't her usual type, there was just a clean honesty about him that shone out of his gaze despite his suggestive manner. Probably a player, went through women like tissue paper. Gather, use, discard could be tattooed over his chest. That wasn't a problem, she wasn't' looking for anything and it was after all just a dance.

"Who's asking?" She smiled, already slipping out of her leather and setting it on the bar.

"Patrick Drake, neurosurgeon."

She giggled at that line, and knew it worked quite well for him. Judging from his cocky manner, he must have bedded countless women from those words alone. "Samantha McCall. Shopkeeper. And I'm not sleeping with you," she felt obligated to point out.

He placed a hand over his chest, "I'm wounded to the core. I never presumed you would."

"You never presumed I wouldn't either," she gave back making him laugh genially.

"All men hope, Ms. McCall, especially when faced with a beautiful woman like you." He held out a hand and she slipped hers inside allowing him to draw her to a empty space.

"You'll turn my head with such lavish compliments," she pursed her lips, slipping into the easy rhythm of the dance with him. She watched him move, the light blue button-down shirt and jeans a nice compliment for his body. He moved well, confident, easy with himself. He didn't try to impress her, or crowd her with some play at seduction. Instead, he genuinely seemed to enjoy dancing.

"Well deserved compliments," he slipped an arm around her waist before she realized his intent. He pulled her snug against him, one leg between hers, and her hands flat against his chest. Their bodies rocked in time with the music, "But I have a feeling you already know that."

And that's how he saw her.

_In another man's arms. _

Jason stopped inside the bar every night keeping an eye on the Alcazar Scion, so that when Bailey made her move it would be the perfect moment. Their sources revealed that the Scion were found at Jake's most nights, mixing business and pleasure. A contact would arrive, clue them in to a car and one of them would head out for the jack. It was a solid alibi and Jake's was just shady enough where most humans kept to their own business.

Tonight had been no exception. Bailey was on, already spotted the car that the Alcazars would hit but she would get there first. It would be her in. He would make a quick walk through the bar to distract the Scion briefly, then leave. They would follow and see Bailey stealing their mark. A simple and straightforward plan, only he hadn't thought she would be here.

It was a distraction he couldn't afford. It was bad enough he had been watching her. He had long since given up the pretense. Anything between them was doomed to fail but he needed to be near her. To surround himself in her scent. If he had to satisfy himself with being a mere shadow in her life, it would have to be enough. He would sate himself on her lovely face, the soft breath she drew into her lungs as she dreamed, the seductive beat of her heart as it pumped blood through her body.

He would be damned if another bastard would have her.

Touch her.

Taint her pure haunting scent.

The feral growl pulled deep in his chest even as he felt his fangs lengthen. The possessive instinct slammed into his body, tightened, and unfurled with a dark rage that would have struck fear into the heart of any vampire whose path he crossed. All would have recognized the predator that had been unleashed. All would have known not to stray in his path.

Hunger burned in his stomach, with a intensity that blinded him to all other thoughts. His reason for coming tonight was forgotten in the face of his woman. It was insanity.

His woman.

But there it was. And it was inescapable.

He was tired of trying to fight it. Surrendered to its inevitability. Everything within him called to her. Demanded that he take what was destined to be his. There was only One. Walking into the Mist bestowed that knowledge upon the newly risen vampire. One heart, One mate.

One.

After almost a millennia, he had tried to push that need onto Courtney though his heart had screamed the lie it to be. It blinded him to her faults, to her deceit and caused his House and the people he loved more pain than he could ever make amends for.

When all along, she was here. His mate.

_"Samantha."_


	9. Chapter Eight

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Trying to look inconspicuous standing next to a sleek black Maserati dressed in black jeans and black leather jacket was next to impossible. The exquisite lines of the beast next to her screamed, 'I burn money for fun' while her quiet attire answered in return, 'Money, what money?' Any moment she expected a hand on her shoulder and a harsh voice demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing. And how would she answer that question? Just out for a stroll? Standing this close to the car couldn't be construed as just passing by.

Taking a furtive glimpse from the corner of her eye, she only wondered why no one had stolen this car long before she arrived. It was parked in the alleyway of a dive bar in the worst part of town. It didn't have an alarm to ward off the inquisitive. In fact, the car practically begged someone like her to come along and take it for a little joy ride.

Maybe because it was still safe because it was cold as hell tonight. She blew out an annoyed breath, watching the little white clouds drift away from her lips. Despite the loud music coming from inside the bar, the streets of Port Charles were almost empty. There were figures tucked neatly into the shadows and every so often a lone walker would stop make an exchange with another who stepped from a building and then fade into the night. Drug deal. Not even the frigid temperatures were slowing business.

She could smell snow on the air. Crisp, clean with a slight tang of salt wafting in from the docks. Any moment she expected to see the drift of a snowflake joining the thick piles already covering the ground. The weary were already tucked neatly inside on this cold winter's night. It would be dawn before she could claim the same. No rest for the wicked.

A brief stretch of her fingers in the black leather gloves and she was ready to get this show on the road. The Slim Jim wedged up her sleeve slid into her palm and she turned to the window of the vehicle.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_"Samantha."_

The masculine voice caressed the length of her spine with a delicious erotic edge and just enough command to make her pause in disdain. Seductive, the voice curled heat in the pit of her belly and began to flow through the rest of her body along with the rapid pulse of her heartbeat. The flicker of desire didn't overshadow the displeasure unfortunately. In fact, she stopped in the middle of the dance she was sharing with the nice Dr. Drake and pinned him with a look of annoyance.

"What?"

"What?"

And he had the nerve to act as if he hadn't just called her? Especially the way he did, in that demanding voice that expected obedience. "What do you want?"

Patrick paused, glancing around, his face screwed up in confusion as he looked down at her as if she had grown another head, "What are you talking about?" He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the music screaming around them. That along with the little whisper in the back of her conscious told her that Patrick hadn't called her name.

Not once had he called her Samantha. In fact, she had only introduced herself as Sam. The voice she heard hadn't been lifted over the music, it sounded like it was right in her ear. As if the man who had spoken was standing right behind her.

No, as if it were in your head, her little internal voice spoke up again.

The arms around her tightened briefly, drawing her from her thoughts, "Sam is there something wrong?"

She glanced up at her partner, realizing the voice she heard and Patrick's were completely different. The man who called to her was familiar, comforting. It was the voice that had been haunting her for the past four days. It pulled her awake in the middle of the night, drawing her to the window to stare out into the darkened sky. The voice that left her feeling so sorrowful and yet waiting for something.

Someone.

She scanned the room searching for the source of the alluring words. A hope to find maybe a pair of cerulean eyes to match lay unacknowledged in the back of her mind. The other dancers around them were oblivious and none was close enough to have called her name. None were familiar. So why was she hearing that voice here, now, when she had thought it was nothing more than a persistent dream. "Nothing," she gave Patrick a shaky smile and slipped her arms around his neck determined to ignore the fact that she was probably going crazy.

The blare of Evanescence trailed off to be replaced by Sarah McLaughlin's poignant voice. Patrick pulled her closer into a slow dance, rocking them both gently from side to side. _**"Will we burn in Heaven, like we do down here?" **_She closed her eyes, trying to remember whose arms she was in and not the lingering wish for something that didn't exist.

_"Samantha."_

"Oh, no buddy," she answered aloud, ignoring the way her heart stuttered in her chest. Her entire body reacted to the way he said her name, skin shimmering with awareness, an ache beginning to pulse between her legs. "Just shut up and leave me alone."

"What?" Patrick pulled back to stare questioningly down at her.

"What?"

"You said something I didn't quite catch," he clarified and she felt foolish for talking to a voice in her head. Felt ridiculous for the wistfulness that this stupid song burned through her.

"Nothing," she smiled again and went back to their dance.

_"If he doesn't take his hands off you, I'll have to make him and I won't make it pleasant."_

"What!" she shrieked and Patrick jerked back placing a hand over his injured ear. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized feeling ridiculous. She placed a hand on his arm and felt a cold wind shiver the length of her back as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her sweater.

_"Stop touching him."_

"Shut up," she muttered under her breath. "Come on," she tugged lightly, "There's Coleman with my dinner, why don't you join me?" And maybe it was better this way.

Patrick looked down as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of her and at this point she wasn't so sure either. But she wasn't going to allow some stupid voice in her head to ruin her evening. They slid onto a pair of stools and Patrick ordered a draft while she took another sip of her Dos Equis.

_"Stupid voice in your head? That's a bit insulting mi alma."_

"Go away," Sam mumbled and Coleman looked a little hurt, "I'm not talking to you." Then she realized how that sounded and turned a tentative smile to Patrick, "I'm sorry, I was just wishing this headache would go away. It's been nagging me for a while now."

_"Nagging?"_

Sam gritted her teeth, unknowingly adding a bite to her smile. Putting her focus on the doctor she slid the basket of cheese fries between them. "So, how long have you lived here in Port Charles?"

"Almost a year now," he ate one, a small smile touching his handsome face. "What about you? I haven't' seen you around I don't think."

"I've been here about six months, not all that familiar with the city yet. I work at an herbalist shop over on Canon called Midnight's Mist."

"I could show you around," he offered lightly, "There's a great little rib place, Eli's. We could have dinner Friday night?"

This is what she wanted. To meet new people, make friends. An offer of a simple date with a doctor didn't mean she had to make a lifetime commitment. It was one date; maybe it would lead to more, maybe not. This is what women did. And Patrick was cute.

_"Cute? You think he's cute? Puppies are cute. Babes are cute."_

"That would be nice," she accepted, ignoring the way that voice made her feel. Soft. Feminine. Wanted. What she should be focusing on was Patrick Drake. A nice, attractive man who seemed genuinely interested in her. She just ended a relationship with an arrogant son of a bitch. The last thing she wanted was to be at home thinking about a nonexistent voice in her head that sounded even worse than Sonny.

_"Oh, I exist Samantha and your body and soul knows this."_

Arrogant. That was exactly what she meant. She grabbed a napkin and her purse, digging around for the pen she knew was inside. Lifting it with a triumphant grin, she began scribbling down her phone number, "Why don't you call me tomorrow and we can make plans for Friday?"

What he wanted to do was cross the bar and stake his claim in a way that would leave his Samantha with no doubts as to his actual existence and with whom she belonged. After he disposed of the scrawny human sitting next to her. How was the human to protect her? A strong right cross would put the boy out of commission without even straining himself. This Drake had the audacity to approach his woman.

Jason didn't bother to hide his growl of irritation from her. It rumbled deep in his chest, lengthening his fangs the slightest bit. If anyone had looked in his eyes they would have seen the Knowing burning in his gaze and taken a wary step away. Samantha ignored him. Ignored him. As if he were no more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She turned one of those heartrending smiles on the human and told him she was looking forward to seeing him again.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

A feminine scent surrounded him, not unpleasant but not his woman's. Recognizable. Then a slender hand curled around his arm, heat sidling along his side and he remembered. "Carly," he said aloud before turning to meet the smiling blonde's blue eyes.

"You remembered me," she murmured pressing even tighter than he could have imagined.

"Yes." Of course he remembered her. She had made her interest obvious the night of that stupid dinner party Keeley dragged him to. What he found incredible was her husband's utter disregard for his mate's behavior.

Granted, human relationships were different than his kind. His people mated forever, through blood and soul. A bond that was both physical and spiritual and unbreakable. This was a fact that he couldn't ignore no matter how much he craved his woman. Despite knowing his Samantha, who was currently laughing at something the little human male said, was his destiny. A vampire could not have a human mate. A consort yes, but not a mate.

This Carly woman intending to use him to cuckold her husband filled him with disgust. However, she could be useful in other ways. A movement at a back table brought his attention back to his original purpose. The Alcazar Scion. The fledgling male had seen him, judging the furious expression on his face. The female glanced nervously in his direction as Diego dug through his coat pocket and pulled out a phone.

"Come," he took Carly's hand and pulled her into the midst of the crowd, "Let's dance."

This pleased her, judging from the surge of arousal he scented from her. She followed eagerly, practically crawling onto him as the slow song faded into another. It was a fine line, keeping the Corinthos woman oblivious to his purposes, keeping an eye on the Alcazars and making sure that damned human didn't push his luck with his woman.

Carly tucked her nose against his neck, inhaling deeply, "You smell wonderful," she said wistfully. Before she could slide her hands beneath his jacket and discover the two guns tucked in his holster, he took them and wrapped them around his neck, making her smile. "It's okay you know," she flicked a mane of golden hair off her shoulders. "I know who you are."

"Really," he answered, half-listening, half focused on the intense conversation between the two Scion. They were arguing about his presence and what to do about it. Sage was demanding they leave and return home for the evening. Diego was determined to take action.

"Yes, I do. You're working for the organization that intends to take out the Alcazars." The bold pronouncement didn't surprise him. Carly Corinthos looked like a woman who liked to place all of her cards on the table then begin bargaining in her personal interests. He had no doubt that this had little to do with protecting her husband, and all about coming out ahead in this mob war. "You have my husband very," she paused for dramatic effect, then lifted a perfectly arched brow, "Concerned."

"If I am, who you seem to believe I am, aren't you being foolish by dancing here in my arms?" He took a moment to glance down at her and watched her shake her head.

"Not at all," she reassured him, "It pays to know all of the players in the game."

"This is no game." His voice was as cold and final as death.

"Of course it's a game," she shrugged lightly, "Territory, product, who has the biggest," she licked her lower lip, allowing her gaze to travel the length of his chest seductively, "Gun."

"Gun?"

"Umhum," she murmured, sliding her fingernails into his hair scraping his scalp lightly. She was a predator of the sexual kind. Accustomed to using her beauty and wiles to get what she wanted and probably underestimated by the very men she manipulated. It was a dangerous mistake to make with a woman like her. Carly Corinthos was not to be taken lightly. "So, after you remove the Alcazars will you take complete control of the city?"

"My business with the Alcazars is none of your concern," he told her clearly. Then he remembered the two small children he was introduced to the night of that dinner and softened a bit toward her. Perhaps she was here due to her concern for their safety. It would not hurt to give her the benefit of the doubt. "However, I assure you, my business will not touch your familie."

Something flickered in her eyes then, a softening he wanted to believe, and she simply nodded saying nothing more. "So," she smiled again, this time it contained a bit more sincerity and less shark, but the sexual connotation it implied remained the same. "You want to get out of here?"

The doors behind him crashed open bringing with it a burst of icy air and he watched as Diego shimmered into mist. Damn it! Seven of Alcazars Scion filed in, all carrying automatic weapons and Bailey was alone.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I guess you Gilchrist assholes think we're idiots."

Bailey bit her lip, sliding the metal bar free from the car window, feeling just a bit smug at having jimmied the lock so easily. It might have been her second time doing this, but damned if she didn't have natural talent. Judging from the voice behind her, something must have gone wrong inside the bar. Little Diego Alcazar knew she was of the Gilchrist House despite those funky herbs Justyce made her swallow. This meant the plan to take down the car ring was shot to hell. Well, killing the leader would serve the same purpose. Removing minion later would be clean up.

Rather than react as he probably anticipated, she turned to face the confrontation. Fledgling Scion and Heres of Lorenzo Alcazar was draped in black with a Glock clenched in his fist and a sneer of fury marring what could have been a handsome face.

"How did you figure it out?"

"My Sire knows everything about you Gilchrists', including you Bailey Morgan."

"It's really sad that I have to send you back to the Mist, you know." She leaned nonchalantly against the vehicle, allowing the Slim Jim to fall into the snow. "You're kind of cute."

The compliment threw him for an instant, then he tightened his grip on his weapon, "Shut up! Don't try to stall, I already saw Morgan inside and my men will deal with him. What did you think would happen tonight?"

"Well, it really doesn't matter now," she smiled softly, "You know, I could probably convince my kindreden to make this quick and painless for you. I mean, I can't do anything about the death sentence, but this doesn't have to be-"

He pulled the trigger, "Shut up bitch!" The bullet hit right by her shoulder, pinging loudly against the car's exterior with a white spark to ricochet into the night. "I'm the one holding the gun here. I'm in control, not you. So you should be worrying about yourself instead of some fucking death sentence."

"See that's where you're wrong." She might not be as fast as Justyce but she was certainly faster than a mere fledgling. Before he could fire again, she was knocking the gun from his hand, yanking his arm back with a vicious crack of bone that had him screaming in agony.

He fell to his knees, alternately trying to pull away and cringing at the pain his movement caused. "Bitch!"

"I don't like that word," she twisted again and his shriek filled the night. "And your pretty face can't disguise your ugly soul." She released him and took a step back.

"I'm going to-"

She cut him off with a boot in his face, sending him flying backward into a snowdrift. The loud crunch told her that she had probably broken his nose. "You're going to be a message for you Sire." She reached beneath her leather jacket removing the blades that her kindreden had gifted her with. The scent of blood pouring from his nose and adrenaline hit her senses, lengthening her fangs as she twirled the knives nimbly in her fingers.

She ran her tongue across her lower lip, her azure eyes burning gold, as she leapt on him, sinking her fangs in his neck. He stiffened beneath her assault, hands trying to shove her off, as his body bucked futilely. She simply squeezed her legs crushing his ribs. Blood rich and sweet poured into her mouth, a simple taste as she drove the blades deep into his chest.

Rafe was right, knife work was down and dirty but she loved it. He taught her how to Hunt, the kill, but her kindreden made her. Gilchrist gave her the Mist but Jason's blood flowed through her veins. And despite the innocence of her face, she was every inch a Morgan, the same ruthless Warrior as her kindreden and systir. After a several thick swallows, she jerked away, a gloved hand wiping the smear of crimson from her mouth. She should drain him and leave him for the sun but she had been taught better.

A wicked grin curled her lips, and she watched his eyes fill with the inevitability of his own demise, "Now who's the bitch?"

"I need you to take cover," Jason looked into Carly's eyes and she surprised him by nodding in agreement. There was fear, yes, but there was a layer of calm that kept her from panicking. "There's an empty booth to my left, you should be safe there."

"Okay," she murmured.

"Now go." Carly backed away from him, scrambling under the table, tucking her legs under her trying to get as far away from the danger as possible.

Jason glanced around the bar, noting several of the patrons had either taken cover or were trying to. Samantha sat at the bar, unable to move but at least the male had placed himself in front of her as protection. Perhaps he wouldn't rip the man's arms off after all.

There were too many humans in here and that was exactly what Alcazar's Scion were counting on. He turned to find the seven men had formed a semi-circle around him as if to prevent him from running. They were fledglings, similar to the ones he had dispatched the night at the warehouse. "Was I ever this stupid," he wondered aloud, and the anger in their faces told him they didn't appreciate his words.

"Why don't you just come with us?" The one before him suggested. "Or we can just kill everyone here."

"Go ahead," he shrugged, "They're just humans. Saves me the clean up." His answer caught them off guard, he watched two glance nervously around and decided they would be first.

"As if you'd allow that," the leader sneered, revealing a length of fang that might have been impressive. If he were a fledgling as well. "Mr. Alcazar told us about you."

"Obviously he didn't," Jason snorted, "Because if you knew about me, you wouldn't be standing there with those pathetic guns thinking I'd give a damn if you murder a few humans. The Alcazar kindreden and all of their Scion are under a death sentence by order of the Tribunal of Elders. I am of the Gilchrist House; it is my duty to serve my people. I'll kill anyone and anything that stands in my way."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Sam had two distinct thoughts.

The first was regret that she didn't take her ass home when she had the opportunity. Oh, no, she had to let her pride get in the way of the instinct that told her that Jake's was not a place she wanted to be this evening. Now look where that pride got her. In the middle of a potential shoot out. The seven men dressed in black filed into Jake's with the deadly automatic weapons clutched in their grip and the bar went frighteningly silent as people scrambled for safety.

Everyone knew about the mob war being waged on the streets of Port Charles between the Alcazar and Corinthos organizations. The crushing blows dealt to the former were broadcast on the local news for most of the week. The sinking of the two Alcazar ships managed a note on national news. While it was no surprise to see these men, no one wanted to have the bad luck of being in the vicinity when the Alcazars retaliated.

All that remained in the bar now were a few terrified murmurs, the trailing notes of a slow song coming to its conclusion and certainty that someone was going to die tonight.

Sam's second thought was more personal and startling than the first. Amazing, considering that she knew there was a good chance that she or Patrick could be caught in the crossfire of bullets being sprayed through the bar. Yet, actually finding the source of that voice in her head that had seduced her for most of the night made the greatest impact.

Seeing his face for the first time filled her with the sensation of déjà vu. She knew him. There was no explanation for it, but he was not a stranger. Her eyes greedily consumed his visage, especially the strong features that stared mercilessly at the threat before him. A mouth darkly sensual, tawny hair that her fingers itched to thread through and just so deliciously appealing that he left her breathless. Massive shoulders filled the leather jacket he wore open in the front to reveal a tight black tee molded to the muscle that ripped through his stomach and lord help her, those leather pants stretched over his thick-corded thighs looking positively sinful.

He should have been terrifying. Instead, she had the melting sensation of wanting to curl up next to him and purr. A very feminine desire to feel the warmth of his skin sliding against hers, to feel his powerful body pressing into her and that hungry ache spread straight to her core leaving little room to deny how drawn she was to him.

Eyes cold as ice, deadly, glared out a threat of his own, one she instinctively knew he would have no difficulty backing up. Her body tensed half in dread, half in anticipation. If only she could remember where she had seen him before. Maybe then she would understand why she was reacting so strongly to his presence.

Jason knew things could go very bad, very quickly, if he didn't take a moment to reason out his first move. While it was true he cared not for the humans in this bar, his Samantha was here and that was of the utmost importance. He could not risk her coming to any injury but he could not allow these fledglings to sense any hesitance in his actions.

_"Bailey?"_ He sent out the mental call and felt the simmering of violence in her an instant before she answered.

_"Kindreden?"_

"Are you well?"

"Just taking out the garbage," she snickered a bit. He could hear her elevated heart rate and the fresh heat of blood coursing through her body. "Alcazar knew me, plans in the toilet."

This told him that she had just sent Diego Alcazar back into the Mist. Jason opened his senses and found the pounding heart of the other Alcazar Scion behind him. She couldn't risk shimmering out of the room until the action started, trying to avoid his notice. "I need you in here to keep the humans inside."

"How many?" There was only one reason he would call for assistance and that was if he were ready to fight.

"Seven, but at least twenty humans." And his mate, he finished silently. "Are you able to able to perform a cleaning of that size?" She wasn't a fledgling but erasing the memories of that many humans at one time took power and ability.

"Probably not," she admitted reluctantly, "I can hold them still until you're done though."

"Good," he nodded, pleased that she was truthful and didn't attempt something that could have dire consequences and possibly injure her. "I'm taking this outside; I need you at the door. Don't let any human out." He wanted to order Bailey to protect Samantha, to do everything in her power to ensure his woman came to no harm but until he figured out how to proceed with her, he would keep the knowledge of her existence to himself.

"I'm at the door," she informed him and he could hear the metal opening.

He turned his attention back to the seven who looked like they awaited orders. In a blur of movement, he dropped his jacket and had his two crescent knives in a death grip. The first running steps were so fast, none realized he had moved, as his arms crossed in front of his chest to whip the blades outward.

The two fledglings at the edges of the semi-circle caught the blades in the throat, blood spurting forth. Both men fell back to the floor their guns exploding in a spray of bullets into the ceiling. They weren't dead but incapacitated. A neck wound took effort to heal and considering his blades carried an atropine release mechanism by the time they managed to pry them free he would be finished with the others.

Chaos ensued as screams of terror filled the bar not quite drowning out the sounds of the song someone had programmed, the hammering tribal rhythm of Aerosmith's Eat The Rich, poured from the jukebox. It heated his blood, dragged out his Hunting instinct until the Knowing blazed golden in his eyes. Slowing his movement, so that he was visible to the human eye, he grabbed the coat of the vampire in front of him, rushing the medium sized window behind them and threw him out.

He felt more than saw the others turn in his direction, the cock of guns sounding, bullets whipping past as he dove out the window, shimmering into Mist the instant he hit the cold night air.

"Oh my God," Sam jerked to her feet as she watched the men jump through the broken window. She took three instinctive steps forward before strong hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. "What?" She turned back to see Patrick's stunned face.

"Stay back or you'll get hurt," he demanded as he pulled her closer to his body. Where as before she had tried to enjoy that sensation, now that she had seen him, there was no way she could deny the need, that connection between them she had been so determined to ignore. She had no idea what was going on but intuition said it was lethal.

"Whatever those men want it has nothing to do with us. We're lucky that no one was hurt."

She wanted to struggle against his hold, but what could she say, _'this is going to sound crazy but I hear voices inside of my head and I know that man that dove out the window is the source.' _If that didn't sound insane, the fact that she had been dreaming of those intense blue eyes was definitely a punch in a one-way ticket to Shadybrook.

The metal door of the entrance slammed open an instant later, eliciting a gasp of fright from a far corner of the room. A woman stalked inside, dressed in all black with raven hair a mass of wild curls around her face. The freezing look on her face matched the one of the man Sam was focused on and without confirmation Sam knew they were together. In woman's hands was a pair of daggers that gleamed their deadly intent and the knowledge that she wouldn't hesitate to use them. Azure eyes scanned the room and Sam watched her lip curl in a snarl as the woman focused on another sitting in the back of the bar.

Outside a burst of gunfire sounded through the night along with screams, and deep terrifying growls. The newcomer flicked a glance over her shoulder, and then whipped back to her target, "Don't even think about it."

The woman that Sam had spotted earlier tonight at the docks slid from her seat, her fur coat dropping to the floor around her heeled boots. She was elegant in deep blue wool pantsuit, her long dark hair pulled back into a neat chignon to emphasize her boldly sensual features. A Glock clenched in her gloved hand, she backed toward the wall, her dark eyes revealing her fear as she glanced first at the men twisting on the ground who had knives embedded in their throats to the woman who had spoken. Sam figured the gun was an advantage but it was obvious these two thought otherwise.

"I don't want this," she shook her head. "I did nothing to warrant this."

The woman with the blades took two steps forward, the look on her face unrelenting, "Not my problem. That's just how death sentences are."

"It isn't fair, what if this were you? How could you be without pity?" Sam watched a tear slide down her cheek and something, sympathy, clenched in her chest. She had no idea what they were talking about, but the words death sentences left little doubt what the ending result would be. "I'm to be punished for the sins of my Sire."

"If you didn't want to return to the Mist, you should have left Port Charles. You knew your choices, so don't expect any mercy." she took two more steps forward, "You would have been banished from your House, but you'd still be alive."

"Bitch," the woman's lovely face turned into a grimace of hatred as she raised her gun higher.

"That's the second time tonight someone has called me that foul name. Be glad that I'm not taking offense." Sam could hear the disgust in that answer, "First the runt outside, now you." The woman ran, her steps faster than Sam could have imagined, just as the other began firing. Patrick jerked her down to the floor as glass behind the bar exploded in a spew of alcohol and shards but her eyes stayed on the scene unfolding.

The woman spun on one foot a second before jumping into the air, her thin lithe body contorted in the air then launched herself onto the other sending her crashing to the floor. There was a high-pitched shriek that Sam inwardly cringed from and it galvanized the other patrons of the bar into action. Several stood from their hiding spot, moving to escape the unexpected violence. One man had his hand on the door getting ready to swing it wide, when the woman with the blades suddenly back flipped off the inert body on the floor.

"Stop!"

And Sam felt the command in her voice all the way down to the depths of her soul as her muscles froze. Terrified she tried to move and found her body uncooperative, legs refusing to straighten, arms braced on the floor. A glance around the room, met the confused faces of the others, as they all seemed frozen in place as well. Sam returned to that face, and the blue eyes from before now blazed golden, the hand that still held the blade dripping scarlet in front of her as an unfelt breeze seemed to rustle through her hair.

"Bailey."

Sam heard the voice from her head just as the man stepped back in through the broken window. It was only then she realized the silence of the night he left. Her gaze ping-ponged, witnessing some silent communication passing between them. He looked just as lethal as before and she wondered what had happened outside. Where were the five men who chased him? It was ridiculous, this one man couldn't have stopped...she paused feeling her heart hammer in her chest. They had guns, the incredulous voice in her head screamed. This was all impossible.

Somehow that was reassuring, because there was no way this could be happening now. She was not crouched on the floor of a strange bar unable to move. There was no man with blue eyes, no matter how vivid his face was, how much her body ached to be close to him. There was no woman who commanded them to stillness.

Because if this was real, then she really needed that room at the mental hospital.

"Are you okay?" He walked forward and placed a strangely gentle hand on her face, inspiring a spurt of envy. No way should this be happening.

"I'm fine," the woman reassured him, "The others?"

"Dealt with. I need you to do something for me, and don't ask any questions."

"Jason?"

"Do you hear me!" he snarled in a sharp fury that made the young woman flinch.

"Yes, of course kindreden," she immediately lowered her head in supplication.

Regret creased his features and he lifted her chin to press a kiss to her forehead, "Forgive me systir, I did not mean to raise my voice so. I'm sorry. However this is important." He waited until she opened her eyes before speaking again, "Important to _me_, Bailey."

"I will do whatever you need," she told him and another silent moment of communication passed between them. She nodded once, then opened her jacket to slip the knives into an inner pocket. "The Alcazar Scion?"

"I will deal with her and the two others, do as I ask Bailey."

Sam felt the muscles in her body go limp as control returned, terrified, she scrambled from Patrick's grip to her feet. He looked helplessly up at her and Sam realized she was the only one moving. Before she could squat down to Patrick, a strong hand closed around her upper arm, "What? What are you doing?"

"Come. We must leave." The woman tugged her toward the open window, her face solemn as Sam realized this was what the two of them had been discussing. If this was a mob hit, which organization did they work for? The young woman unconscious on the floor was evidently an Alcazar but these two couldn't be any of Sonny's people. They would know that she and Sonny were over.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Sam tried struggling against the grip but she might as well have tried to bend steel. Frantic eyes glared from the slender hand back to the youthful face, "How the hell?"

"Quiet!" The growled command sounded furious but Sam didn't miss the curious glance the woman tossed at her.

Sam glanced back into the bar, her eyes seeing Patrick's panic then drawn to the tall masculine form in black. She watched him bend over to jerk a knife out of one of the men's throats, the swift ruthless flick of his wrist severing the head from the body. Before she could scream in horror, the body on the floor jerked once, then shimmered into a fine gold mist and disappeared, leaving her goggling in shock. Slowly he stood, a pull of muscle and power rippling through his entire body. When he glanced back over his shoulder, their eyes clashed in a clamor of emotions that sent a shiver of longing to her core.

Amazingly, his incisors began to lengthen into a monstrous set of fangs and those cerulean eyes began to glow. Hell, his very skin seemed to shimmer with golden light. Unconsciously her hand rose to him, imploring, and his face softened from that harsh violence to something akin to tenderness.

_"Samantha."_

The mental brush was like the very caress his hand had given the young woman pulling her away. But more, so much more. And she responded to it, everything in her warmed at that voice, embraced the brush of feeling pulsing through her. "This is not happening," she managed aloud.

_"Sleep mi alma," he murmured gently._

"No!" she shouted. her body began to shut down, going limp as her feet tangled beneath her in the snow. Her eyelids grew heavy, her mind drifting away. The woman paused to grab her around the waist before she could collapse to the ground and hoisted her over her shoulder as if she were no heavier than a purse. "No! I won't. Please don't," she begged in a feeble voice, unable to struggle, as blackness closed in around her.

_"I will come to you soon, Samantha. All will be well." _They were the final words that penetrated the fog.

Sam jerked awake as if someone had dashed freezing water in her face. Eyes wide she took in the darkened room, noting the hammering of her heart. A pale light on the desk across from her barely penetrated the shadows. Her body released a violent quake, as her fingers clenched silk then snatched away as if she had been burned. The deep burgundy sheets she was wrapped in were not her own.

This wasn't her bedroom.

She didn't need the heavy masculine furniture to tell her that. Nor that wonderful scent of man and something forbidden that filled her lungs and exploded in a downpour of fiery sweetness leaving her wet and achy. Scrambling from the huge bed, through the thick fall of silk hanging from its canopy, her butt hit the floor making her cry out in pain. This only encouraged her to push back on the plush carpet her bare feet curled into.

That's when she noted her bare feet.

Shock had her running her hands down her legs revealed by sensual black silk that rode high on her hips. Her clothes! Someone had stripped off her clothes. She twisted quickly to her feet, feeling the cool air caused by her movements brush along the length of her arms. A glanced down told her she was completely naked beneath the black sheath, nipples swollen and taut, her skin sensitive to the brush of material.

"How?" She noted a mirror and rushed over, seeing her deshelved image, hair shaggy around a sleep mused face. Seductive. Aroused. "Where the hell am I?"

"Here with me."

This time that voice wasn't inside of her head.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

The moonlight swept against her porcelain skin, shooting pale beams through her dark silken hair and the waves fluttered in the night's breeze. The violet gown molded to her skin, giving him a taste of the wondrous body beneath and he didn't bother to conceal his reaction. His heart rate accelerated, blood pumping through his body straight to his groin, which lengthened in anticipation. The pinch of his fangs against his lower lip was welcome; he could almost taste her filling his mouth as he sated himself.

Her heart, her life, her soul, for eternity. It was how Gilchrists mated. Animalistic in their very nature. Possessive and protective, demanding, Sasha often told him he drove her insane with his need to take her, claim her. Then afterwards she would smile, for she knew that if she belonged to him, then he belonged to her. His heart, his life, his very soul was hers as well.

"I can feel you staring at me, Raine. Other than the obvious what is wrong?"

He allowed the smile the freedom it sought, pleasure curving his lips. His Sasha knew him well. "I'm just wondering how quickly I can remove that scandalous dress you're wearing," he would tell her eventually, but first, always he needed the comfort of his wife. The garment in question was a tempting little something she had worn the first night they met.

The bacchanalia almost a century ago.

She had shocked all of the Houses by entering the ballroom wearing the gossamer thin gown, all that dark hair pinned in an upsweep that just begged to be released and spread across a pillow. Her Familie had been appalled. The Broussard House, one of the Aristocracies, one of the oldest, wealthiest and powerful of all Houses and the eldest daughter teetering along the edge of disgrace by appearing at a Winter Solstice Ball dressed in next to nothing.

He had been enchanted.

Fifty years they danced around their feelings for each other, their Houses and traditions, conspiracies and murder, all of it ending with his Heres' sacrifice and Sasha demanding that her familie honor her mate.

She humbled him.

She completed him in ways he could never have fathomed. Sasha, his mate, the mother of his babe, familie he had never expected to have. He would walk into the sun for her.

"Considering that is your reaction every time I wear this dress," she looked back over her shoulder with a wicked grin, "I'm not surprised." Releasing the light grip on the balcony, she crossed to him where he reclined on the cranberry suede chaise and curled into his lap. He settled her comfortably in his embrace, brushing his lips across her temple. Nimble fingers released the buttons of his black shirt, to trail lightly across his chest.

Her light chuckle as he released a moan of pleasure warmed his heart. "That is not what is bothering you this evening."

"It's Jason."

"He was very troubled after his Reawakening," she told him. He had felt his Scion's suffering, so it was no wonder the woman who had bonded her life to his could as well.

Jason who he had rescued as a boy, made his heart ache. Years easily melted away to memories of the tow headed child who had entered the Mist proudly. The Morgans might have been caretakers of the House of Gilchrist but there had always been something special about their youngest boy. Raine watched the inquisitive mature into intelligence, the brave turn into honor and loyalty. The boy into a man who would one day lead the Gilchrist House with the nobility and admiration he deserved.

The Warrior who had no equal save himself.

He might be the most feared of their people, but it changed not his love for his familie and Jason was his Scion, his first.

"He still feels so very guilty. Guilty about Courtney, about leaving Bailey, about Justyce's sacrifice." She sat up on her elbows so she could look into his eyes, "But most of all, he feels ashamed that he failed you."

"I know," he released a shaky breath. "I have told him there was nothing to forgive, but until Jason knows this in his heart, nothing we say will convince him." He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear and told her what was truly on his mind. "He has found her."

Sasha stared at him for a moment then comprehension darkened her beautiful eyes, "Truly?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I don't know how, I can't even say what will happen between them but I am not looking forward to this courtship." If their relationship had been rampant with strife and betrayal, a human woman being the mate of a vampire of the Gilchrist House was a recipe for disaster.

A soft knock at their bedroom door had him groaning and Sasha teasing with a smile, "There goes your quite evening while Morgan sleeps."

He leaned down to press a kiss to her mouth, hard and full of all the hunger that currently pulsed through his groin, the fragrant hint of her arousal made him want to ignore whoever was behind the damned door disturbing them. At the next insistent knock he tore his mouth away, "Who is it?"

"You have visitors, Sire."

Sasha gave him one last kiss, "Come in, Rafe." Then she folded her fingers through his and murmured, "Be nice, Rafe isn't interrupting us without cause."

The door swung open and Rafe stepped inside. He had changed from his Hunting attire and wearing his usual black robes with katanas at his waist. "Forgive me, Sire, for the interruption. The Countess Giambelli and her granddaughter have called. She would not wait to be announced." He bowed deeply at the waist in supplication.

"Its fine, Rafe," Raine waved the apology aside, "Show her in."

Rafe straightened, and stepped aside allowing the women to walk into the room. Age, wisdom and strength preceded the Countess, along with that dark beauty that all Giambelli women possessed. Her granddaughter, Isadora, a taller and more youthful version of the Countess, followed behind. Both women were elegant in emerald green suits though Dora's long dark hair cascaded nearly to her waist and possessed the same regal posture as her more petite matriarch. Dora was the current Elder of the Giambelli House, but all deferred to the Countess.

As one, he and Sasha moved to their feet, "Good evening," he bowed to both women, stepping forward to greet each by taking their hand and pressing a kiss to the knuckles of one then the other. "I am honored to serve."

Dora smiled genially, while Zinnia Giambelli rolled her eyes and released a short snort of laughter, "As if a Gilchrist would ever be so obedient." Raine smiled, enjoying the older women immensely as always.

Zinnia served as Elder of the Giambelli house for two centuries after the death of her mate before stepping aside for her granddaughter. During her rule, Zinna made the Giambelli House wealthy and powerful. And respected. They were the first Matriarchal lead House, until Nefertiti and wrestled control of her own from her degenerate kindreden.

Zinnia cupped an indulgent hand to his cheek then turned to Sasha, "And you're looking beautiful as always Sasha."

"As are you, Countess," Sasha inclined her head with a wide smile, "Dora, it's wonderful to see you again, but I thought you were in Sicily."

"Which brings us to the purpose of our visit," Zinnia interrupted, her expression solemn now, "We have a problem and I believe your Heres is the cause."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Rated:M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_"Here with me."_

Those simple words echoed in Sam's head along with the thumping of her heart as the images of the night poured into her mind. The men who stormed Jake's with automatic weapons. The man who had tossed one out the window, after incapacitating two, only to be pursued by the others. The woman who had entered the bar.

The blood.

The _fangs_, her eyes widened in remembrance.

"Impossible," she whispered, as she also recalled this was the voice she heard in her head. Eyes emerged from the shadows first, exactly like her dreams, a pure intense cerulean that had the power to stop her heart. Then his face, so gorgeous it should be a sin.

There in a large chair she hadn't noticed across the room was the source of the voice that had haunted her. He leaned forward, the edge of the moonlight slicing across the hard planes of his bare chest and she was forced to swallow back a moan of pleasure.

Like a deadly cat he had watched her in silence until he was prepared to announce his presence. Her heart jerked as he unfurled from the chair, a sinewy twist of masculinity. Draped low on his hips were loose fitting black pants that did nothing to conceal the power beneath.

"Not this, mi alma, not this."

"Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you? What do you want?" The questions rambled off, gaining speed and panic as the enormity of the situation began closing in on her. She was practically naked in a strange man's bedroom after the violence and shock of tonight.

He didn't move, just stared at her in that intense way that made her nearly breathless with wanting. The emotions all twined together, forced her to take several shaky steps backward. In an effort to regain the lack of control she wrapped her arms around her waist, watched something flare in those blue eyes that couldn't be mistaken for anything but hunger.

"This is my bedroom. We are at the Harbor View Towers," he began gently. "You are safe Samantha."

"How do you know my name?" The words trembled out before she could stop them, "We've never met, so how do you know my name?"

He closed the space between them, a glide really, so swift that she couldn't detect the movement until he was right in front of her. The gasp caught in her throat crawled back down when faced with the strength of his presence. Large hands cupped her face and tilted her head back so she could stare into his eyes. He must have felt the violent tremor that went through her body because his face softened slightly.

"You have nothing to fear from me Samantha. Never from me, mi alma." A thumb traced light across her cheek. Then something amazing happened. A ring of gold began to form around the passionate blue of his eyes, thickening with smaller flecks illuminating within, "Remember me." He murmured softly, "Remember me."

Scenes began to flicker through her mind, memories, she realized with a startled clarity. The night she cleaned her apartment, she had gone out to buy more ice cream. Leaving the store, being abducted by those men and taken to the warehouse. The horror that she was going to die, kneeling in the dark and cold warehouse, and all this because she had the bad judgment of sleeping with a mobster.

"You saved me," she whispered, as she remembered him finally. He had rescued her from certain death and the feelings of reassurance and desire. "But how did I forget? What did you do to me to make me forget?"

"I thought it better that way," he replied, making her furious.

"You thought," she repeated. "What gave you the right to do that to me!" She went to snatch free, but his hands tightened unremittingly. He had screwed with her mind, done something to her to cause her to forget all that had happened that night. The manipulation infuriated her. "You had no right!"

"I had every right." His voice was so uncompromising it only brought the simmer of anger to boil. "It is my duty to protect my people."

"What? Protecting your people doesn't give you the right to screw around with my head whenever the mood hits. Your people? What are you talking about? Are you in the organization like Sonny?"

"You know what I am Samantha. You saw tonight what I am."

The fangs. The lethal grace with which he moved. But that was, "Impossible," she shook her head in denial, refusing to acknowledge what her heart was telling at her. The young woman who moved so quickly, then lifted her into the air as if she weigh nothing. The murmur of his voice in her head. "What do you want from me?"

At her shakily asked question he released her and turned away. "I don't know." He walked to the balcony, staring out into the night. He seemed so alone was her first thought. There should have been alarm, incredulity, because it was too damned difficult to even mutter the word, the possibility that the creatures that fascinated her truly existed.

Yet that was the feeling clenching around her heart. His loneliness. It was carved into the beautiful planes of his face, it surrounded him, enfolding him within its icy desolation and it reached out to her. Called her to heal him, warm him.

"You vex me Samantha, with everything I am, and what I know to be true about humans, everything you are vexes me."

She watched in amazement as he waved a hand and the balcony doors swung open, a cool breeze whipping through the room. "You're confused," she muttered, rubbing her arms to ward off a chill. Before she could speak, silk closed around her making her jerk. How the hell, stuttered though her head, but if he could open the doors with a wave of his hands then why shouldn't he be able to do this as well.

It was a man's silk robe but it smelled new and not of him, which told her he had never worn it before. That saddened her for some reason, and she chose not to explore too thoroughly why she wanted to be encircled by his scent. "I don't understand," she shook her head."How?"

She took a tentative step forward and he swung back to pin her with those eyes. Every time he looked at her it was more, more than anything she had ever experienced in her life. "What's your name?" She managed, grabbing the edges of the robe and pulling them tighter around her.

"I am Jason Morgan of the House of Gilchrist. I am, a Warrior, protector of my people."

Sam took a deep breath and said the words that should have been impossible. "And you're a vampire."

"Yes."

Thinking it and actually hearing him confirm the suspicion made her tremble again, run a shaky hand through her hair. "This isn't happening."

"Yes, Samantha it is and now that I've brought you here against all of my better judgment, I have to decide what to do with you."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Justyce watched her systir pace the floor looking as if she wanted to say something and as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It was rare to see Bailey agitated, for her basic nature was one of light. This was one of the reasons she couldn't understand Bailey's decision to become a Hunter. Each of the Warriors of the House had a layer of darkness. A sliver of ruthlessness which enabled them to make a kill, despite the pleading, no matter the situation.

Bailey was similar to Sasha in temperament, kind, generous, but Rafe and Law had assured her that Bailey was more like her and Jason than she was giving her systir credit for. Law figured it was losing her parents at such an early age that gave her that edge and Jason's blood flowing through her veins which completed the circle.

Justyce knew that Bailey would do anything for their kindreden, which was exactly how she felt as well, and nothing upset Bailey more than if Jason were in trouble. The last time Jason was in trouble, Justyce pushed the thought away, shook her head and went to sit on the black suede sofa by the fireplace.

She didn't want to think on that time. Never again. Almost losing Jason had been like a dagger in the chest. The terror of seeing him, bleeding, the life draining from his body still had the power to shake her to the core.

The only thing that made it worse was Jason's acceptance. He thought sacrificing his life was a just exchange for not being able to see through to Courtney's deception. When she had bonded her lifeforce to his, seen how close Jason was to the Mist, there was nothing that would have kept her from pulling him back. Everyone was so proud of how she had saved their kindreden but Justyce knew there was more selfishness in that choice than altruism.

She didn't know how to exist without Jason.

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong, it would at least put an end to that annoying pacing." She had changed from her leathers from Hunting, and adjusted the flowing skirt of the red peasant dress she wore around her long legs.

"It's nothing," Bailey waved off her concern but stopped her endless walking and sat down on the leather recliner across from her. Justyce waited, fifty years might have passed but Bailey hadn't changed that much. The fact that she admitted something was on her mind was enough to tell she was almost ready to talk.

"Is it the Hunt? I know Diego Alcazar wasn't your first kill, but you're still young, is that what's bothering you?"

"What?" Bailey looked up from her fidgeting hands, her face filled with disbelief. "No, of course not." And Justyce could see that was the truth.

"So if it's not the Alcazar Scion, what has you so twisted up this evening?"

"It's Jason," she admitted on a huff and relaxed back in the chair, as if she were relieved to finally speak of it. "He didn't vow me to silence, but I know he isn't ready to speak of this yet."

"What's wrong Bailey?" If it had her this upset, "Does Gilchrist know?"

"I believe so," Bailey nodded, and that was a relief. "Jason spoke with our Sire after the meeting, so I hope he told him," Bailey trailed off, closing her eyes, then mumbled, "I still can't believe he brought a human back here."  
_  
"He did what?"_

Bailey couldn't have missed the shock in her bitter whisper, and realized her last words were spoken aloud, "Justyce, don't," she held up her hands, pleading."Don't do anything rash."

"Rash?" She stood from her chair, fury and astonishment pouring through her blood equally, "Jason knows humans aren't to be trusted and he brings one back here!"

Everything that had happened to her should have been enough proof to Jason that humans were never to be brought into their world, trusted with their secrets. "It's bad enough one of our own betrayed him," she growled and strode toward their bedrooms, "I won't allow some human to destroy my kindreden because he's too busy thinking with his dick and not his brain!"

"If Gilchrist knows, and consents to her presence then we must leave Jason to resolve this on his own," Bailey wrapped a firm hand around her arm, halting her. "This isn't like Courtney."

"I know it isn't like Courtney," she raged, "This could be worse."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The breeze brushed across his face, his skin, bringing with it a hint of the night in which he belonged. The darkness that lurked and intertwined within him echoed in the fathomless sky, danced through the city amongst unaware and Jason knew he would never again feel as he did right in this moment.

Awakened.

It wasn't the same as the ceremony he had gone through when he was brought from Latent state. The whisper of mystic and spirit that dragged him from the edge of the Mist where he had slumbered until his body was strong enough, had healed from its near fatal wounds. A Reawakening was almost like a rebirth for his kind, that flush of blood and life.

This moment, faced with Samantha, was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. It was confusing and exhilarating all in the same breath. It burned through his blood like the brightest fire and all he wanted was to claim the one who was meant for him. She who had always been meant for him. Only it wasn't so simple.

He could not forget that she was human, he was vampire and their kind could never truly mingle their lifeforces together. So what was he to do?

Jason dragged a breath into his lungs, blending her scent, feminine and erotic with the night and felt his body instantly respond. It wasn't mere arousal, was so much more than sexual. Not that his muscles didn't tense in anticipation, or that his cock didn't' harden at the mere thought of her. Because he hungered for her, ached, to know every intimate inch of her.

No, this was awareness went deeper than physical and straight into destiny.

If he opened his senses completely, gave himself over to her, their very essences could combine, heart, body and soul. Only he knew she was no where near ready for that level of connection. Even now he could hear the erratic rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest. A deeper look within her would show her blood racing, her mind confused about what he was revealing to her but wanting to know him.

It was much for a mortal to take in, that his people, vampires, existed. Despite her predisposition, the reality of his people was so much more than mere fable or cinema could fathom. Yet he took the knowledge that she wasn't screaming in terror of him as a good sign.

Part of her was angry that he had removed her memories and perhaps he should feel repentant but after a thousand years of guarding the safety and well-being of his people it was impossible. Given the same opportunity, he knew he would do it again. His familie had learned a very difficult lesson at the hands of humans, given what had happened to Justyce and his actions now would not be without consequences.

Gilchrist understood, but meeting Samantha could not have come at a more inopportune time. They were in the middle of a death sentence on the Scion from a House of the Aristocracy. The Alcazars were certain to be difficult, given the arrogance of the Aristocrats and this was a delicate situation that could get dangerous without any notice. A vampire bonding with his mate could not have come at a worse moment.

"You didn't answer me." Her husky voice still carried both fear and anger but the most prevalent emotion was desire. "And telling me that you don't know what you're going to do with me, isn't' exactly endearing."

Perhaps he could erase her memories again, at least until this sentence was carried out, then he could seek her out again. Begin their association under more agreeable circumstances. Only he wasn't foolish. He had already told himself that seeing her was impossible and for four days he sought her out, risking exposure. Not to mention his Samantha seemed to have a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight was the second time she had placed herself in danger, unintentionally or no.

This city was too volatile at the moment to take that chance, no it was better to go on from this moment.

And it was not his own jealousies and the thought of that useless mortal she had been dancing with that was influencing his decisions. Even if every primal instinct within him had roared at the thought of another male in the presence of his mate.

He turned to her then, felt heat flash through his body, the blood pooling heavily in his groin at the sight of her beauty draped in black silk. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, stilling that shimmer of the Knowing from his glance. He owed her answers, only he didn't know how many he could give her this evening.

"I mean, you have to admit, it's pretty insane to believe you're a vampire. I don't really know what I saw tonight, maybe I had too much to drink, or maybe I was accidentally shot and I'm unconscious in the hospital and this is all just a dream-"

"Is that what you wish it to be," he asked searching her gaze for the truth. Though he might not like it, he could understand her mind searching for any answer that could convince her she was imagining the whole thing. "A dream? You wish to awaken from this moment and discover it something your mind created?"

She waited a long while before answering, and that reply was so soft that had he not had such advanced senses he would not have heard it. "No. That isn't what I want."

He drifted across the room to her, watched her eyes widen briefly and remembered the simple movement that he thought nothing of would seem so alien to her. Pulling her into his arms, he waited until her body gradually relaxed against him. Absorbing her warmth into his body, he listened to the rhythm of her heart, matching his to the patter and resisted the urge to slip into her mind and merge their consciousness.

"I brought you here tonight, because I knew that I could no longer ignore these feelings. You are the flame and I am drawn to your warmth."

Her chest rose and fell several times then she ran a nervous tongue over her lips, blood flooding her face and neck in a delicate blush, "You don't have to speak to me that way. I don't know you and you don't know me, but," she broke off when he lifted a brow, "What?"

"You could allow me the opportunity to know you," he lifted a hand, to drag through her hair and cup the back of her head, "I would like to know a great deal about you, Samantha McCall."

"Before you what? Drink my blood, turn me into a vampire too? I'm not exactly ready to be one of the walking undead."

"That is a myth," he allowed a smile to lift the side of his mouth. "You feel my heartbeat against your breast, I live, and I draw breath just as you."

"Then I'm really clueless here," she pointed out. "You're a vampire but I don't know what's myth and what's just garbage that was made up." Her voice began to tremble, "And it doesn't help when you look at me as if you want to-"

"Take you back to my bed and spread your legs so that I may loose myself in you."

"That's one way of putting it," her voice trembled.

His grip around her waist tightened, then they drifted slowly over to the bed, where he sat her down on the edge. Unable to help himself, he kneeled between her legs, surrounding himself with the scent of her arousal. He laid his head on her hip, and closed his eyes for a moment listening to the varying reactions of her body. He ran his hands down the length of her thighs, enjoying the silk of her skin.

"Ask your questions. I will try to tell you what you want to know."

Her chuckle of laughter couldn't hide her nervousness, "This is so out of my experience. Strange man, uh, vampire, between my legs," The words were not helping his arousal any. The husky moan floated up from deep in his chest bringing forth a new wave of her achy scent. "And you think I can formulate a coherent thought, let alone a question to discover who and what you are."

Rather than speak, he continued massaging her thighs, kneading his fingers lightly into her flesh trying to resist the urge to cover the supple skin with his mouth.

"Where are you from? I mean, I know you don't come from Port Charles, so where are you from?"

"My Sire and our House reside in Spain."

"Sire, I think I get that, the vampire who made you right?"

"Something like that," he murmured.

"And you said your House?"

"My kindreden and my systirs. I believe you would say brothers and sisters but our bond is much greater than blood and biology. We are of the House of Gilchrist, the Warriors of our people. Enforcers of our laws and bringers of judgment."

"That sounds big," she sighed. "Really, really big."

"It is our duty," he told her. "Perhaps the responsibility is large, but it is an honor to serve my people."

"You say that with such dignity," she answered, and her fingers slipped absently into his hair to stroke gently, "As if you've been doing this for hundreds of years." Then she paused as if it finally occurred to her, "Hundreds of years? Hundreds? Just how long have you been doing it?"

"My story is different from the others of my House, as I am my Sire's Heres, his heir and first Scion. I was born more than a thousand years ago, Samantha, brought into the Mist as a child by Gilchrist who found my family murdered in our home."

"Thousand," the word squeaked even as her hand stilled. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and she looked amazed and, yes, terrified. "I thought vampires didn't age?"

"A myth as well, walking into the Mist varies for each of us. I was gifted as a child and our children go through their normal growth as human adolescents do. We simply begin to age slower after reaching maturity. Our life and experiences form us, Samantha."

"But you're immortal, right?"

"Immortal implies that we do not die and that isn't so. It simply takes more to kill us than a human. We are vulnerable to sunlight, certain poisons and beheading but most other injuries we are able to heal from."

"Aren't you risking a great deal by telling me all of this," she asked carefully.

"I would have us begin with truth, not a lie, Samantha."

"Us? Isn't that being a little presumptuous, to assume that there is an us and we've just met."

He sat up completely, pulling her forward just a bit, so that she rubbed against his erection, her taut nipples grazed his chest. Threading his fingers through her hair, he tilted her head back to look into her eyes. "For each of my people, there is but One mate for us. Our destined."

"But, I'm not one of your people," she whispered.

"That does not change the facts, Samantha. You were meant for me and I was meant for you." He leaned down and brushed his lips softly across hers, meeting no protest, simply a glimmer of the effervescent taste that was her. "Pretending that we don't' feel this way, doesn't make it less truth."

"This is too fast, and I just don't' know."

"And she doesn't have to know."

The door to his bedroom swung open wide at the anger filled voice. Samantha squeaked lightly trying to scramble back out of his arms but he simply stood and pulled her against him. He watched the petite Countess storm into his bedroom, her face a glare of fury, accompanied by the Elder Giambelli, Gilchrist and Sasha.

Protocol demanded the proper tribute be paid, and he pushed Samantha behind him bowing deeply at the waist, "Sire, My lady. Countess Giambelli and Lady Giambelli," he greeted, despite his state of undress and refusing to relinquish his hold on Samantha. "I did not expect you this evening."

"And that's obvious, isn't it boy," the Countess spoke with cool authority.

"Zinna?" Samantha choked out, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same dear," she answered indulgently. "But judging from your obvious state of undress, I believe I can figure that out on my own."

He couldn't have held back the growl of disapproval even if he had wanted to. The sign of disrespect clearly shocked the older woman, "Baring your fangs at me, young Morgan? Considering you are currently disgracing one of my House's potential Scion, I'd suggest you calm yourself."

"Stand up Jason," he heard Isadora Giambelli say from behind her Grandmother. "I believe we should discuss this situation calmly before matters get out of hand."

Jason slowly stood, keeping a possessive arm around Samantha's waist, noting the stunned expression on her face. A million questions rushed through his mind. Samantha, a Giambelli Scion? Had he been so distracted that he didn't note the scent of the Giambelli House?

"I would suggest removing your hand," the Countess spoke up, "Perhaps this discussion can move to the living room."

"My hand stays where it is. She is mine and you shall not interfere." He didn't know what the Elder had to say, but it wouldn't change anything. Samantha was his mate and damned if anyone or any House would come between them.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what the hell is going on!"

Jason glanced back at those shouted words, wanted to growl in frustration. Whether the Countess realized it or not, she had just made things remarkably worse.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Rated:M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to write about them**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

A masculine hand traced desolately along the slope of an exotic jaw line, wishing instead of the thick oil beneath his fingertip was the smooth warmth of flesh. Instead of the faint hint of turpentine and paint that his enhanced senses could still detect, there was the light and playful scent of violets that always lingered on her skin.

Rather than see a pathetic attempt to capture the visage of raven hair that glistened like shining glass and hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders, he could be pushing a strand away from her loving face as he reprimanded her for going out in the night in this time of peril.

This was all he had left of her, his Scion and Heres that he had lovingly spoiled and adored beyond all reason. All that remained of Sage was a damned painting and the memories that would haunt him for all time.

Luis glanced around at the destruction wrought on the parlor, antiques he had collected over the years, furniture he selected mostly for her pleasure because she had so liked to be surrounded by beautiful things, all ruined by the swift and brutal temper of his twin. Even now Lorenzo stalked through the room looking for something more to savage beneath the force of his rage.

They were nearly identical, except for the beard that he chose to grow, a distinction he needed to separate from the shadow of his seconds older brother. He had to wonder if he looked as his brother did now. Bestial and vicious, fangs bared, the elegant clothing each prided himself on ragged and torn from their bodies.

Pity the messenger who had brought the news of Diego and Sage's deaths. Luis could see the terror in his eyes as he haltingly delivered the words that would ultimately lead to his demise. Lorenzo had listened quietly as was his way and in the next second before the poor bastard could draw a breath, leapt on him, filling the room with a horrible scream that was violently shut off. Then there was only the sound of flesh rending.

When there was no more of the man to slaughter, Lorenzo had sat back on his haunches and howled, the mournful sound echoing into the night was followed by the trail of crimson down his face.

"This is your fault." The words slipped out before he had the chance to call them back. Even before the words were spoken, Luis knew something was wrong. His mind had tried to deny it, perhaps she was hurt or somewhere their link could not reach. Only his heart had known the truth, his soul had known that Sage had returned to the Mist.

Sage was gone.

His quiet but damning words filled the silence as only the truth could. Lorenzo stopped, crushing glass beneath his foot, and flicked a ferine glance in his direction. Was he supposed to be frightened? They were twins, kindreden, and practically equals in fighting skills. Lorenzo would not dare.

"My fault?" The words were deceivingly calm considering the waves of anger crashing in his direction. "How so?"

"I told you it was a mistake to take on the House of Gilchrist. Six Warriors, with the Morgans Awakened, and a death sentence hanging over our heads. You and your damned plans."

"They are responsible-"

"NO KINDREDEN!" He roared, feeling his own brutish rage welling in his chest, "You and your plans. Take down the Houses, destroy the Gilchrists and now look what you've done! My Sage," voice cracking with emotion, he broke off, feeling warmth coursing down his own cheeks now. "She's gone because of you," he finished in a bitter whisper.

"Luis, kindreden, you cannot possibly believe that."

"If we had simply returned to Buenos Aires, this never would have happened. My greed, Your arrogance," he shook his head, "I should never have listened to you. I knew it was the height of insanity to even think of making war against the other Houses."

"And scurried back like fledglings?" Lorenzo yelled. "Is that who we are? The House of Alcazar does not bend to the will of anyone!"

"We know the Laws, Lorenzo. The risks we took were fine when our Heres weren't involved. In our stupidity we forgot our history. That Morgan cautioned us to remember the Vladimirs and Diego mocked her because that is how we reared him."

Luis gave the portrait one last caress, before turning to face his kindreden. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, feeling his hands tremble with grief, he continued, "We didn't teach him of our people's history and customs and he could not understand. He did not fear as we knew he should. At least Sage could sense the danger but she always followed Diego. Always. Our pride blinded us and our Heres suffered the consequences."

Even if their Scion were ignorant, they knew of the slaughter of the Vladimirs. They could remember the frightened whispers of how the entire House had been decimated due to the stupidity of one. They knew the Gilchrists wielded the blade.

"Then they are whom you should blame," Lorenzo argued, "Were it not for them, Diego and Sage would be alive! Were it not for that damned Morgan, our Heres would be here! He is whom you should blame, not your kindreden!"

Crossing the distance between them in a flicker, Luis felt strong hands close on his arms, eyes exactly like his own staring back at him in entreaty. "We cannot be divided Luis, here is our opportunity. This is exactly why I wish to remove the Houses from power and destroy the Gilchrists. Because of one simple order, they have wrecked havoc on our lives."

When he shook his head in denial, it was countered with a violent shake, his feet leaving the floor as his back connected harshly with the wall. His eyes went quickly to the painting that quaked before settling back in it's spot.

Normally such an action would have been met with aggression of his own, but he no longer had the strength or will to fight. Nothing much seemed to matter anymore. Not this life they had been building here in Port Charles, the game and excitement that he had once thrived on, none of it made much difference anymore. Not without Sage.

"Stay with me Kindreden and we will make them pay for what they've done. We shall take from them what they have stolen from us," Lorenzo vowed, eyes gleaming with a blind insanity that should have worried him. "They will suffer. This I promise you, Luis. Do not doubt me now."

"Fine," he sighed, dropping his head, no longer capable of glancing into those eyes. "I will stand with you Lorenzo." For he no longer had anything worth living for.

**

* * *

**

"Who is the human that followed Bailey home?"

Keeley glanced up from the final business contracts that would need Raine's signature toward the voice that had disrupted her thoughts. The man that so often annoyed her stood in the doorway with a rare smirk. She would swear he reserved the damned thing especially for her. Duncan Maitland may be her Raine's scion but Duncan was the bane of her existence. He was like the annoying younger sibling that would never go away and the overbearing elder kindreden from hell combined.

Normally he was silent, with moments of biting wit occasionally tossed in to keep things unbalanced. The only ones he lowered his guard for were the other Warriors and even then he was closest to Jason. If Duncan could be considered close to anyone. She could never figure out why he chose to annoy her so often. All he would ever say in response to the frequent demand was that she reminded him of kin. That was the most any of them had ever heard of Duncan's relatives before he entered the Mist.

"First of all, Bailey brought her home at Jason's request," which they all had heard after the very loud disagreement between Jason and Raine. A first. Jason almost never questioned Raine and yet in less than a week, he had not only done so but disobeyed a direct order to keep said human safe. "It's none of our business. When Jason is ready to speak of his reasons, he will."

"A human in our midst merely seeks trouble we cannot afford to have right now," Duncan crossed the elegant private office to the large backed leather chair that sat in front of her desk. He reclined as if they spoke of nothing important but the facade could never disguise the predatory aura that surrounded him. The tattoos covering his body and some of his face made the lethal air even more so. "We need Jason focused and a human, especially a human female, will become troublesome."

Duncan was angry. It was a shock to realize that fact considering he was so adept at concealing his emotions. The only reason she had guessed upon his feelings was the slight thickening of his burr and the brief flicker of it in his eyes. The question was, was he angry with Jason or the female?

"Things are going along just as planned," she told him. "You, Law and Rafe handled the shipping lines perfectly. It is a major strike against whatever actions the Alcazars were planning. Bailey and Jason took out the two Heres tonight, while Justyce burned the Alcazar warehouses and all of their contents. Both should understand that the death sentence will be carried out to it's completion."

"They could still run to their Sire," Duncan warned and it was true but under the Laws, Armando Alcazar was obligated to surrender them both for judgment. Whether or not the arrogant Elder would was another story. "Then we would be forced to go to Buenos Aires after them. I was looking forward to a simple stay here and a swift return to Spain. With this involvement of the human, that wish has quickly disappeared."

"Jason would never know place the house in danger."

"Jason hates humans," Duncan released a heavy breath, "After what happened to Justyce, the only time he associates with them is for feeding. For him to become involved with one means something Keeley, and a female at that. Especially after Courtney's betrayal."

"Then you probably don't want to hear the Giambelli House arrived earlier this evening, hun?" The lift of a brow was all she received for that bit of information. "The Countess," she began in anticipation of his unasked question, "And the Elder."

"Why?" Then he shook his head, dragging a hand over his face tiredly. "The human right?"

"I believe so," she told him.

The silence afterwards as each of them pondered the possible implications was ended when Rafe appeared in the doorway. The solemnity she was accustomed to seeing on his face was nowhere to be found. It seemed Duncan was correct. The human would be troublesome after all.

"Gilchrist wishes to see us."

_**

* * *

**_

Sam had the feeling that she had stumbled into wonderland without having realized. The only question was exactly when did she fall down the rabbit whole. Considering the people gathered here in this gorgeous study, she began to ponder if it began with that night where her memories were all scrambled or if maybe she had been faltering around in the abyss for months now without even realizing.

From what she could piece together, this was Jason's apartment. She couldn't imagine him standing in a bare study picking this deep burnished red paint for the walls, the heavy dark furniture and drapes. Probably one of the women who had stood protectively at his side had designed this room's decor. While the room a very comforting old world charm, this was very much a man's room.

She told herself that she should feel more relaxed, sitting across from her was Zinnia, as they had so many times before in the store having tea. Nothing much was different about the elegant woman, Sam still felt comfortable in her presence and the beautiful woman at her side didn't change that fact.

Isadora, the stranger had been introduced, Zinnia's granddaughter they explained carefully, though Sam had a feeling that the relationship was much more complex than that. It was obvious that the word wasn't exactly the one they wanted to use but felt necessary to convince her.

Sam could tell the two women were related, although Zinnia was petite while Isadora was more statuesque. Both had dark hair, but Isadora's was styled in long graceful waves that complemented her face. Zinnia's beauty was diminutive, while Isadora's bold and vibrant. The one thing both women had in common was the strength Sam couldn't help but sense.

"Well, here we are," the door of the study opened and the woman from before stepped inside. Sam didn't know who she was, only that she was important to Jason because whenever she spoke he listened without argument. There had been plenty of those going around tonight. "A nice cup of tea and the four of us can speak quietly and try to make some sense of things."

The tea service she set on the table before them looked like an antique like Zinnia's and Sam wondered briefly on the obsession these people had with tea and old things. "It's been a very," she paused, releasing a sigh, "Stimulating night, hasn't it?"

"It has indeed," Isadora agreed, probably to fill the silence, accepting the cup after Zinnia had taken one of her own. "I can't say that I understand exactly what is going on but I'm sure things can't be as bad as they seem."

"That's all a matter of opinion, Isadora," Zinnia interrupted, still stirring her tea.

Obviously not the answer either women wanted to hear. Sam knew Zinnia was strong minded but never had she thought her to be stubborn.

"Samantha?"

She blinked at the soft question to see the woman holding a cup out to her. "Thank you," and she gave a nod of appreciation to Zinnia for all the afternoons they had performed this same ritual. If not for the woman, she would feel even more anxious about the situation, instead of relaxing as had been intended. The scent wafting up from the delicate cup even smelled like one of the blends from the shop.

"Now," the dark haired woman sat next to her, adjusting the flow of skirt. "I don't know if you remember in all of the commotion from before, my name is Sasha Gilchrist of the House of Gilchrist formerly of the House of Broussard. It is a pleasure to meet you Samantha McCall."

Sasha was right, Sam couldn't remember the introduction if there had been one. Everything was a scrambled mess and unless she was mistaken, this whole_ "house"_ thing meant Sasha was a vampire. Like Jason. Did that mean Zinnia and this Isadora were vampires too?

"I know this is probably a bit confusing," Sasha commiserated.

"A bit? That's the understatement of the century," as her voice rose, the cup and saucer shook in her grip. After a deliberate slow breath she tried to continue. "Nothing about tonight is making any sense."

"The boy had no right to reveal our secrets," Zinnia interrupted, "Gilchrist should reprimand him for his actions. In fact, the boy is already skirting dangerously close to a very thin line since that debacle before."

"Whether Raine reprimands _Jason _for anything is a House issue, Countess," Sasha clarified, the steel in her voice more than a match for the elder woman. Sam had never heard anyone speak to Zinnia that way.

"He disturbed a process-"

"We all know what process Jason interrupted," Sasha interrupted and Sam could only goggle in response. "What's more, I believe you and I know exactly why he did so. Let's not be obtuse, Zinnia. You want something from Samantha. Jason needs something from Samantha. Traditions, Rules and Laws aside, I believe we both know which take precedence."

"And you also know the changes that take place after entering the Mist," Zinnia pointed out.

"There is no guarantee that anything will change."

"There is no guarantee it won't and certainly no fledgling-"

"I think," Isadora interrupted loudly, nodding pointed in her direction, "That this conversation needs to take several steps back and include the woman in question. You both were being very rude."

"Forgive me," Sasha placed an apologetic hand on her arm. "I've always hated when others did that to me and I turn right around and behave in the same manner."

"It's fine," was all Sam managed before Zinnia broke in.

"If the boy had left her alone, we would be having this conversation in a more comfortable environment without Samantha worrying about her safety."

"I'm not-"

"Jason would never harm her!"

"How would she know that?" Zinnia countered, "Thrusting the child into a situation she has no control over, making demands on her body. She was practically naked in his bedroom room while he molested her!"

Sam's gasp of horror mirrored Isabella's but Sasha's fury was a sight to behold. "How dare you speak that way about Jason?" She jerked to her feet in righteous indignation. "There has been no animosity between the House of Gilchrist and the House of Giambelli but you are traversing dangerously close to it Zinnia. No one insults a Warrior of _MY HOUSE IN MY PRESENCE!"_

Zinnia rose steadily to her feet, no less regal than Sasha in her anger, "I shall protect a potential Giambelli Scion at all costs. Make no mistake about that and the other Houses will stand by me as you well know Sasha."

"Wait a minute," Sam set her cup aside to stand, both hands warding off the building tension, because she knew that something bad was about to happen. "I don't exactly know what the hell is going on here but the two of you need to calm down. I mean it!"

Both women glared at each other for a long time before relenting. Zinnia mumbled something under her breath in Italian that was probably very unflattering but unless she was mistaken that French she heard from Sasha held the same derogatory tone. However both women sat down crossing their ankles neatly and tucking them beneath them. Damn, she was going to have someone show her how to pull off that noble arrogance because their stiff posture said more than any words ever could.

"Now since the two of you keep talking around me, I'm going to ask the questions and you're going to answer or I'm walking out of this door and we'll see if Jason can do a better job."

Zinnia looked less than pleased at those words and Sam couldn't help feel guilty after everything the woman had done for her. Zinnia had taken her in, made her feel as if she were apart of her family, gave her a job and an apartment when she was new to Port Charles and didn't know a soul.

She didn't want to disappoint Zinnia but somewhere in all of this madness she was drawn to Jason. Drawn to him in a way that she had never been to anyone before. Maybe it was some vampire thing he was doing to her, or maybe not but she would never know if she didn't know and understand all sides of this situation.

"I think that's a very good idea." Sasha on the other hand looked extremely satisfied with the turn of events.

"Yeah, okay," she swallowed, nervously. Now that she had the floor, she didn't know what to start with. Noticing that she was the only one still standing, she promptly sat back down. "So, lets start with the most obvious question. I guess all of you," she pointed around, "Are vampires like Jason?"


End file.
